What's a Girl to Do? (Season 2)
by originella
Summary: Murphy "Murph" Gallagher is just finding her feet as she is now an official member of the Gallagher family by taking back her surname. However, a shocking announcement from her biological father pushes her over the edge, and a surprise pregnancy puts everyone in a tailspin. When Ian's boyfriend, Trevor, tells Murph that she ruins everything, who will her twin choose in the fight?
1. Reckless Understanding

Chapter One: Reckless Understanding

As the hours flew by as I returned to the United States, I found myself growing more and more worried for my unborn child. Due to my recklessness, I'd gotten pregnant either on the fourteenth or fifteenth of August, meaning that it was a free for all at this point. I knew I would have to get a DNA test while still pregnant, and knew it could be done as early as the eighth week, meaning that I had to wait another month. Another month, which would mean potentially bonding with this child, and likely having it taken from me.

I checked my phone again as I arrived within the Chicago city limits in mid-morning on Sunday, knowing full well that I must look like a wreck, but desperate to know what this letter said. I drove to the house, parking outside and grabbing my things from the back of the car and making my way up the stairs of the house. As I fumbled for my keys, the front door open and Ian stood there, just staring at me for a moment. When I opened my mouth to speak, Ian merely closed the distance between us and held me for a moment. I didn't cry; I didn't need to cry; I just needed to be close to my twin for a moment.

"We've been waiting all weekend," Ian said quietly, breaking the silence as I pulled away from him and stepped into the house, allowing him to take my duffel and purse and place them on the stairs. He followed me into the living room, and I saw Fiona, Lip, Debbie and Franny, Carl, and Liam all staring at me.

"Hey, guys," I said, wandering over to a chair and sitting down, Ian automatically following me and presumably standing guard. "Look, I'm sorry. I had to take care of something in a hurry. I'm going to try and be more open about things in the future." I turned to Fiona then, who looked the most concerned for me. "Fiona... Can we have a moment, please?" I asked, and, at last, my voice broke for, if anything, I needed my big sister right then.

"Of course," Fiona replied, getting to her feet.

I followed, clasping Ian's hand for a moment before I left, and Fiona put her arm around my shoulders and led me out to the back porch. I shut the door behind us and turned to face her, and noticed that her eyes were red-rimmed—either from lack of sleep or crying, I didn't know. "I just want you to know, first of all, that I love you."

Fiona sighed, pulling her fingers though her dark hair. "I love you, too, Murph," she replied. "I just... I want you to just go ahead and tell me, okay? I mean, you're not... You're not dying or something like that, are you?"

"No, I promise you that," I said, stepping forward and taking her hand. "I am perfectly healthy, that I can say."

"And what can't you say?" she asked, watching my face.

I sighed. "I can't say that I'm scared," I replied.

"Scared?" Fiona asked. "Why would you be scared?"

"Because I'm pregnant," I replied, and Fiona automatically covered her mouth. "I'm pregnant, and I know that yours and Debbie's relationship hasn't been the same since she decided to keep her baby, and—"

Fiona cut me off then, pulling me into her arms. "The circumstances are entirely different here, Murph," she said gently. "You have a degree, a good job, a great income..."

I pulled back then. "No, you don't understand," I replied, dashing the tears out of my eyes. "I don't know who the father is."

"Murph?" Fiona asked.

I sighed, gripping the side of the house. "It could be Lip's," I whispered. "There's a possibility that it could be someone else's, but it might be Lip's..."

"Oh, my god," Fiona whispered. "What about the other possibility?"

I scoffed, looking away from her, the shame washing over me as the tears continued to fall down my face. "It could be Mickey's," I replied.

"Mickey? As in Mickey Milkovich?" Fiona demanded.

I nodded. "Yeah. Remind me never to drink tequila again..."

"Jesus Christ, Murph," Fiona said, putting her hands on her hips. "I honestly don't know how to respond to that... Does Ian know?"

I nodded. "Yeah. I told him first—after I went to Mexico the first time, and after I found out I was pregnant."

"Why would you tell Ian first? What about Lip?"

I turned and looked at Fiona. "You know as well as I do how awkward it's been since he got the news about us being siblings," I replied, gesturing in between us. "Besides, it's different with Ian, Fi. It's a twin thing, I guess. I can't really explain it. All my life, I heard about twins having this unique bond. I guess I thought it was crazy, but now that I know I'm a twin, I understand it now more than I ever could've imagined."

Fiona nodded, seeming to get why I could tell Ian everything, and first. "So, what does this mean, then, Murph?" she asked.

"Well, obviously, if it's Lip's, I'm getting an abortion," I whispered.

Fiona nodded. "I get that. And if it's Mickey's?"

I sighed. "If it's Mickey's, then congratulations, Fiona. You're going to be an aunt yet again," I replied, unknowing how she would feel about the sentiment.

"Is this really what you want, Murph?" Fiona asked, and I turned to look at her. "Having a baby with a man you don't love?"

"I don't love Mickey, that's true," I replied. "I feel bad that he was dealt this hand, really I do. I mean, we've all been dealt pretty shitty hands, Fiona. I guess, in a perfect world, I wouldn't be your sister, and then..." I shrugged.

"You still hung up on Lip, then?" she asked.

I shrugged. "I don't know. I've done a lot of thinking these past several days, Fiona. Things are different now. I mean, who knows, in nine months, I could be a mother..."

"Is that really what you want, though? To be a single mother?"

"If it comes to that, yes," I replied. "For years, I thought I couldn't have a child. I've been given a chance, Fiona. A real chance, and I'm going to take it."

"Do you think we ever find the right person?" Fiona asked. "I mean, a right person to love and care about us forever?"

I shrugged again. "I don't know, but I do know that, what you just said, has a bunch of different meanings, which can be good and bad. I mean, I've got a family, no matter how this turns out," I say, placing a hand upon my stomach. "And if it doesn't turn out the way I want it, then hey, I can always try again with someone else, right?"

"So, you want this baby?" she asked.

I nodded. "I do. At this point, I really do. No matter who the father is, I'll always love this baby, and even if it and I have to say goodbye, I hope it has the understanding to know that, our time together was precious to me."

Fiona looks at me skeptically then. "You know, I don't think it'll have the understanding, because of the whole 'taking care of it before any brain activity' thing..."

I smirked at Fiona, finding that I was laughing at her. "You're terrible, you know that?" I asked her, and Fiona laughed.

"I've been called worse," she replied. She reached into her jeans pocket, and handed something over to me. "Ian picked this up the other day—from Monica."

I took the letter. "Thanks," I replied.

"I'll give you a few moments," she said. She hesitated for a moment, tucking a bit of stray hair behind my ear, and cupping my cheek for a moment. Shaking her head, she returned into the house, presumably to tell our siblings that I was reading the letter.

I gripped the letter in my hands, wondering what it could possibly say. From a woman I'd never known, who'd been dead and gone for four years; I still couldn't believe I held onto my last link to my biological mother. Shaking my head, knowing that I needed to open it up and get it over with, I turned it over, ripping the sucker open and unfolding the pages.

 _To my little girl, who I know is unlikely to be so little anymore, first of all, I just want to apologize to you. I realized too late that you were Frank's daughter—of course, I thought that you and Ian were identical. Why wouldn't I? You looked so alike on the day you were born, and if it weren't for the notion that you were a girl and he as a boy, I wouldn't have been able to tell the two of you apart._

 _I wish I'd been able to hold onto you, but I was so worried that Frank would find out that Ian was not his, and that he would assume the same about you. I knew from the moment I looked at you that you were mine and Frank's—you looked like Ian, of course, but I saw so much of Fiona in you as well, and later Debbie, when she came along. None of my children could ever replace you, Murphy, and as the daughter I lost, I hope that one day, you can forgive me, and maybe meet me and speak to me._

 _If not, if you can't, I understand completely. I gave you away at birth, and I was told that you were adopted when you were three months old. There wasn't a day that went by when I didn't think about you, Murphy, and how I wished you could have been raised alongside the rest of your siblings. I can only hope that your adoption was a success, and that you lived a full life until or unless you decided to come back to Chicago to read this letter, and to meet your family, the ones that didn't know about you, but will welcome you with open arms. I know they will, because, even though I couldn't be there for them either, Fiona kept them in check, and I know she will do the same to you._

 _If this is goodbye, then I'll accept that, knowing that you know that I loved you. Hello and goodbye then, my beautiful Murphy Margaret Gallagher._

 _Your mother,_

 _Monica_

I raised my eyes upwards then, and it was then that I realized that I was crying. There was a squeak of the door opening behind me, and Ian was standing there. I hesitated for a moment before I stumbled towards him, and he pulled me into his arms. I handed the letter over to him, and he read it to himself for a moment before his other arm came around me then.

"She loved you," he said quietly.

"Doesn't matter," I replied.

"Why not?" he asked.

"Because, I've got all of you," I replied, pulling back and looking up at him. "And no matter what happens, I'm not going anywhere, because we're a family. Families don't leave each other, Ian, and I've got to get that into my head."

Ian smiled. "Really?"

I nodded. "Really. It means no more running away—for either of us. We've got to stay here and tough it out—discuss our shit, no matter what it is. Because you're my fucking twin, and I expect you to tell me if something fucked happened to you."

Ian nodded. "I can do that."

"So can I," I replied. "And if it turns out I'm keeping this baby, then he or she will have to know that too, and we'll teach the baby. Together."

Ian looked touched. "Well, I know we can make it work, Murph."

"So do I," I replied, taking the letter back, folding it up, and putting it back into its envelope, finding that I hesitated for a moment.

"You okay?"

"Fine," I replied, mulling over my latest decision. "Listen, I think we should hold off on any pregnancy announcements just yet. If I can keep this baby, I'll say so. If I have to get an abortion, maybe I won't say anything... It doesn't need to be said..."

"You don't want them to know?" Ian asked.

I sighed. "Maybe... Maybe I can talk to Debbie. She and I have been getting closer, and she's the only one of us who has a kid, but I don't want her to freak out or hate me..."

"Hey, Debs is smart like you and Lip," Ian said. "She'll be able to piece it together without you telling her the full story. She'll understand."

I nodded. "Well, if she'll understand, then that's what'll happen," I reply.

. . .

Nicholas arranged the meeting between the two of us as Jasmine Jones, who was due at the firm the following day, in anticipation of Judge Whitmore's upcoming verdict. Nicholas reserved one of the big conference rooms that afternoon, and I kept small bags of saltine crackers in my purse, wanting to curb the morning sickness that didn't seem to want to go away. I'd made an appointment for my eight-week mark, knowing that I wanted to get the DNA test done as quickly as possible before I did something stupid, like design a nursery. I put another cracker in my mouth then, and Nicholas turned and looked at me, looking as if he was as confused as he'd ever been in the short time I'd known him.

"What's with you this afternoon?" he asked.

I turned and looked at him. "What?" I said, my mouth partially full of cracker. "Is there a problem with eating in the conference room?"

"Well, no—Mom and Dad have done weird catered meetings in here before," he replied. "They always had these disgusting little finger sandwiches... Anyway, you're the one who said that the salt content in saltines made you sick."

I blinked, surprised that he would remember something like that. "You remembered that?" I asked, thinking that I'd mentioned it after one of our trysts.

Nicholas nodded. "Yeah. I thought it was weird. That's why I remembered."

 _Oh, of course_ , I thought, making a face at him. _Of course you thought it was weird and that's why you remembered—not because you gave a shit about me at any point in time_... "It's nothing," I said, not wanting to talk about it yet. "I just get sick every now and again. It's not contagious or anything—just my stomach gets upset."

"If you're sure," Nicholas replies, not at all convinced as the door opens, and a beautiful woman walks into the room.

Jasmine Jones is five-feet-eight—four inches taller than me—and has long, flowing raven hair that shines beneath the lights. Her skin color looks like sun-kissed cinnamon, and her lips are colored a dark red. Her lashes look as if they have been extended, and she wears a black pencil skirt, white, long-sleeved blouse with its first two buttons unbuttoned, plus a pair of black, patent leather shoes. Putting forward a perfectly manicured hand with clear nail polish, she goes to shake my hand as I get to my feet.

"Jasmine," I say, feeling relieved that I'm not covered in crumbs. "So wonderful to finally meet you face-to-face."

"Likewise, Murphy," she replied, before turning to Nicholas. "I know you..."

"Yeah," he replied. "I'm friends with Jorge Ramírez, in human trafficking. You knew me as Nick Abshire. Do you remember?"

Jasmine sighed, sinking down into the offered chair. " _Ay_ , _Dios mío_ ," she said quietly. "All right, then. This is about Johnny?"

I nodded. "Yes. If you would be willing to switch sides and testify against Johnny on our behalf, we would be willing to give you a temporary visa."

"I can stay in America?" she asked.

"Provided that you testify against Johnny, yes," Nicholas replied.

Jasmine sighed. "All right," she said after a moment, and Nicholas and I looked at each other, unknowing why it was supposedly so easy. "What do you want to know?"

. . .

Even though Jasmine went the extra mile to testify for us—and she got her temporary visa out of it—Judge Whitmore had to take into consideration that this was Johnny's first major offense. He decided that Johnny would be released on bail pending sentencing, and Nicholas and I immediately moved for Jasmine to be moved into protective surveillance. That way, Johnny would be forbidden to contact her and hurt her, or to attempt to convince her to go back on her statements made in court.

Sentencing hadn't been set yet, and since Judge Whitmore had a backlog of other cases to attend to, it was unlikely we'd get any results quickly. So, I continued on with my own existence, and tried not to form a deep attachment to the life growing inside me. Sometimes, I was sickened by it, whereas, other times, I felt completely devoted to it. I did my best to keep my mood swings in check, and Ian, Fiona, and Lip did their best to cover for me when other members of the family were around, but there was only so much everyone could take, what with every single one of them being in the dark.

The only positive thing going for me was, mid-week after Judge Whitmore let Johnny Sanders out on bail, I received an important package in the mail. In it, was my newly re-issued birth certificate, my social security card, my new driver's license, and my new passport. All of which proudly stated that my name was Murphy Margaret Gallagher, and no longer legally tied to the name Scarlett Elizabeth Davies. I think that Ian was the second-most happy when all the documentation came, because now he would no longer have to write notes to Liam's principal about me dropping him off on some mornings.

I felt relief when an entire month had passed, and the morning of the appointment had arrived. I was relying solely upon my DNA sample from Lip, and, at this point, we were working with process of elimination more than anything else. I didn't care; as long as it showed up as negative with Lip's DNA on the paternal side, then that was all that mattered. The appointment was first thing in the morning so, after I dropped off Liam at school, I arrived at the hospital, the Lip's hairs in a small bag that I could provide the hospital with.

I went into the exam room and hopped up onto the table, where I was encouraged to look away as the large needle was brought forth. I looked away, gripping the sides of the table as it was inserted into my abdomen, and just crossed my fingers that the pain didn't get any worse. I gave the hairs to the doctor—not Dr. Fairfax, as a specialist was needed for this operation—and was told that I would get my results in the next day or two. I thanked the doctor, taking the offered bandage and going into the firm, although I decided that eating was out of the question, for a while at least, because of how that needle had looked.

"Are you okay this morning, Murphy?" Rachel asked as I came into the firm.

I sighed. "I will be," I reply, smiling at her. I was sipping tea that morning, for a smoothie would have been too much for my stomach to handle. "I brought you a chai latte..."

"Thank you," Rachel said, taking it. "That was so nice of you."

I gave her a slight nod. "No problem," I replied, bustling by her and returning to my office. All I wanted, for the rest of that day, was to be alone and nurse my stomach. I would know in the next couple of days if my child was Lip's, and if it was, it would just break my heart. I'd wanted a child for as long as I could remember, and now that my chance was on the horizon, I didn't want it snatched away from me.

I had to be off work at three that afternoon to pick up Liam from school, which Allie and Hugo had been quick to understand and accommodate, due to my, as they put it, "impressive" work output these last several weeks. I got in my car at around two-forty-five, clearing the firm property quickly and making my way to Liam's school. I got out of the car after parking it in the lot and went towards where the other parents were waiting for their own children, and wondered if that would prove to be me one day.

I spotted Liam quickly as the streams of children burst forth from the school, and, when he saw me, his dark eyes lit up happily. I let out a short, burst of laughter as Liam ran to me, and I crouched so that I could hug him in a more efficient manner. "Hey, buddy!" I said, kissing his forehead and holding him close. "Did you have a good day?"

Liam shrugged, pulling back and offering me his backpack. "Okay," he replied, reaching up to take me by the hand.

I smiled, feeling touched as we walked back towards the parking lot. "So, you and I need to make a little trip to the store, and then we'll go home, unpack the groceries, and get your homework started. Then, you have a choice," I say as we get to the car.

"What choice?" Liam asks as I open the back door for him, where his booster seat is waiting for him, and he gets into it himself.

"Well," I say, opening my door and placing Liam's backpack beside him before I shut his door and get into my seat, "you can either watch T.V. once your homework is done, or you can help me make dinner."

"Can I help you?" Liam asked, looking up at me in the mirror.

I smiled, knowing that most children would prefer to watch T.V., but pleased that Liam wanted to help me cook. "Of course you can, buddy," I said. "All belted up back there?"

"Yes, Murphy," Liam replied.

I grinned back at him. "Good. Now hang on," I joked, pulling out of the parking space and out of the parking lot, and continued down the street. "We had tacos last night, so maybe we can make burgers tonight. Is that okay with you?"

"With French fries?" Liam asked.

I laughed. "Of course we need French fries!" I replied. "French fries and burgers make a beautiful couple, and they need to stay together."

Liam laughed. "Burgers and French fries aren't a couple!"

I grinned back at him. "My mistake," I said. "We should also probably buy dinner for tomorrow night and Wednesday night. Maybe we can make pasta tomorrow, and for Wednesday... What do you think, Liam?"

"Chicken and rice?" he asked.

I nodded. "That sounds great," I replied. "I can buy a can of soup and bake it in the oven. Have you ever had it that way?"

"No," Liam replied.

"Does it sound good?"

"Yes," Liam said.

Once we got home from grocery shopping, Liam mostly handed me groceries from the bags because I was better equipped at getting them onto the higher shelves. Once that was finished, we sat together at the kitchen table, looking over his math problems and the book report assignment he was due to finish by Friday. Thankfully, his class had had library time that afternoon, and he'd picked out _Stuart Little_ , which he, Ian, and I would likely read together, but I didn't mind, loving the story of the little mouse. Liam and I even read a little before Ian came back from work, and I helped him write down some notes so add to his report.

"Hey, family," Ian said, coming in from work. "Ooh, something smells good," he said, and I grinned at him.

"French fries are in the oven, and the ground beef has already been shaped and seasoned for the burger patties," I replied.

"Why did you have to be the responsible twin?" he asked sarcastically, pulling me into a hug before hugging Liam. "Hey, buddy! Finish your homework yet?"

"Yes, but Murphy helped," Liam replied.

"Well, she's allowed to help—she's our sister," Ian said.

Ian and I worked on dinner while Liam—who had done plenty of work for the day—wandered over to the couch to watch some cartoons while he waited for dinner. Ian and I worked in silence for a few minutes, really wanting to make sure that Liam was so engrossed in the appropriate childish content that he wouldn't be bothered by our whispering. Finally, after a few moments, Ian took the opportunity to speak.

"How was the doctor's?"

I sighed. "Okay, I guess. The needle was fucking huge," I replied, lifting up my blouse and showing Ian where the band-aid was.

"Jesus, Murph—you've got a bruise!" he cried out.

I shrugged. "Small price to pay to know the truth."

"When do you find out?"

"Tomorrow or Wednesday," I reply. "The sooner, the better. I'm getting tired of telling myself not to bond with this thing," I said, relieved that I wasn't showing yet. "I think it'll just be better once the results are given and I can move on with my life."

"Amen to that," Ian said.

I shook my head. "I know it'll be hard, if things go badly, and I have to say goodbye," I whispered to Ian, not wanting to disturb Liam. "But we all know that DNA testing was the right thing to do, right? I mean..."

"Hey, it's okay," Ian said, pulling me in for a hug. "Sure, either candidate you have for the father is wrong and fucked up in so many ways, but what can you do?"

I sighed. "I could continue to not give you the message that Mickey gave me when I found him in Mexico," I said quietly.

Ian pulled back. "He gave you another message?"

I bit my lip, walking over to the oven to check on the French fries and, seeing that they weren't ready, shut the oven door and turned back to him. "Okay, yes. He gave me another message for you," I reply.

"Oh, my god," Ian said quietly.

"Look, Ian, I promised myself I wasn't going to say anything, so we can just forget it," I say, feeling like an idiot.

"It's been mentioned," Ian replied, flipping the burgers upon the griddle I'd brought with me when I moved in. "So, just say it."

"Are you sure?" I asked, quietly.

Ian shook his head. "No," he replied. "But it's going to keep eating me alive until you tell me what it is. So, just tell me."

"Well, it's not like Trevor doesn't hate me already," I muttered to myself, much to Ian's confusion, before I continued, "He said to tell you that he's still waiting."

"Well, that's fine," Ian said, obviously more affected by Mickey's message than he was willing to let on. "But what did you say about Trevor just now?"

I sighed, rolling back on my heels before checking the French fries again. "Doesn't matter. Let's just not worry about it..."

"Murph," Ian said firmly.

"When you borrowed my car last night, to take Liam to pick up some ice cream, Trevor came by the house," I replied.

"Why didn't you say anything?" Ian asked.

"Because it really upset me—not him coming over, but what he said to me," I replied. "And Liam was up half the night with an upset stomach because you let him have too much ice cream and we had to leave early today..."

"Just tell me what happened and why he wasn't here when I got back," Ian told me.

"He told me that he was still here that first time I got back from Mexico—that you told everyone to leave and that you told him to go upstairs," I said quietly, and Ian turned to focus on cooking the burger patties. "He said that he heard me mention Mickey, and said that I was an incentive bitch for bringing him up, after all the shit Mickey put you through..."

Ian whipped around then. "He actually said that?"

"Of course he did," I replied. "I wouldn't lie about that, Ian. He said that things were better before I showed up and ruined everything."

"Did he?" Ian asked.

I nodded. "Yes."

"Shit," Ian said, finishing cooking. "I'll have mine later," he said as I turned around to take the French fries out of the oven.

"What?" I demanded. "Why?"

"Because, I need to go see Trevor," Ian replied.

"Ian, stop!" I cried out. "It doesn't matter, really—"

Ian grabbed my arms then and shook his head at me. "You still don't fucking get it, do you Murphy?" he demanded. "You're my fucking sister, and nobody is allowed to fucking talk to or about you that way!"

"Ian—"

"No," he said firmly.

"Stop," I said, and, for some reason, he did. "Don't go over there with both guns blazing. This is all so stupid. I'm not asking you to not go over there because I don't respect myself, or because I'm lying to you—I don't want you to go over there because I don't fucking care what Trevor said, because it shouldn't affect me. We're all adults here, Ian."

"Exactly! We're adults, and Trevor shouldn't—"

I put my hand on Ian's chest, preventing him from moving further. "You're right, he shouldn't have said anything. But it doesn't matter. Just drop it, Ian. Please."

Ian sighed, his shoulders slacking. "Just this once," he said. "If Trevor does or says anything to you again—"

"Then you can do something about it," I reply. "Promise."

. . .

The next day couldn't come fast enough but, thankfully, the morning sickness didn't seem to want to cling to me, so I got myself a smoothie that morning. As I arrived at the office, Rachel seemed to notice my change and seemed pleased for the mango smoothie as I trekked to my office that morning. I sped through my morning tasks, taking time to answer phone calls and to give details responses to clients via email, and, by the time lunch whirled around, I ordered a salad from a place down the road, actually wanting to eat.

At around one o'clock, the call I'd been dreading and expecting finally came, and I told Rachel to hold all correspondence for the next ten minutes, just to give me a few moments to breathe either way. "Hello?" I asked when I took the call. "This is Murphy Gallagher."

"Hello, Miss Gallagher, this is the lab from Mercy Hospital with your test results. Could you please confirm your date of birth before we continue?"

"Of course," I replied, and I gave her my date of birth.

"Thank you, Miss Gallagher. Now, as for the paternal side of your unborn child, there is, without a doubt, a zero-percent match based on the DNA sample you gave us."

I nearly fell off my desk chair, lowering my hand to my stomach. "Are... Are you serious?" I whispered, my voice shaking.

"Yes," she replied. "I'm sorry if you're disappointed, Miss Gallagher—"

"No," I broke out then, my voice continuing to shake. "No, I'm not disappointed—I'm so relieved right now, I can't... Thank you!" I cried out.

The woman on the other side of the phone laughed a little. "No problem, Miss Gallagher. We will send this information to your general practitioner right away, and he or she will set you up with an OB-GYN at their earliest convenience."

"Thank you so much," I said.

"You're welcome, Miss Gallagher. Have a pleasant afternoon."

"You too. Thank you!" I said again, cutting the call. Immediately, I got up from my desk and grabbed my purse before running out of my office. I saw Nicholas in the hallway, walking by my office, and he looked stunned to see the look on my face.

"On your way to see me?" he joked.

I sighed. "Nicholas, we can't—not anymore," I replied.

"Why not?" he asked, confused.

"Because I'm pregnant," I replied. "And don't worry," I said to his shocked expression, "it's not yours, so we're all good," I said, grinning at him and dashing down the hallway again, and away from his stunned face.

I ran past Rachel's desk and waved to her, running into the lobby and pressing the elevator button frantically before it arrived to take me to the parking garage. I texted Rachel then to inform Allie that I was taking the rest of the day off, and would explain why the following day as I flew into the parking garage and towards my car. I got inside then, my hands practically shaking as I drove out of there and across town to Ian's workplace, where I parked out front and blitzed in through the front doors.

"Hi!" I cried out to the heavyset woman behind the front counter.

"Oh, and what's your name today? Jennifer Lawrence?" she asked.

I laughed aloud then, handing over my new ID patiently, because absolutely nothing could bring me down that day. I thanked the woman when she handed over a visitor's pass and I ran back to the employee area, bursting in through the doors, much to the surprise of the other employees and Ian, who got to his feet and immediately steered me towards the back door and outside, looking at me with concern.

"Murph? You okay?" he asked.

I nodded. "More than okay."

"You get the news?"

I nodded again. "I got the news."

"And?" he asked.

I grinned up at him. "Lip isn't the father and you're going to be an uncle," I replied.

Ian smiled then, a small laugh escaping his throat then as he pulled me into a hug. "I said I'd be here, Murph, and I'll be here. Promise."

I sighed, knowing that it would take some time—for all of us—to get used to yet another new Gallagher entering the picture. "I know," I replied. "And I'm going to be here for you, Ian. I just want you to remember that."


	2. Past and Present

Chapter Two: Past and Present

I returned to the firm for a couple of hours that afternoon, keeping my mouth shut about the revelation when it came to my pregnancy. While I sat in my office, typing away correspondence to various other clients who hoped for victory in the courtroom, more than once, I found myself reaching down and just touching my stomach. The notion that I was officially having a child that I could keep sent this rare warmth through me, and even though it would take some getting used to, I found my desire to be a mother was overwhelming.

Even though this child had come at the most complicated time, and under not the best circumstances out there, they were meant to be here. Somehow, I thought that was the case, wasn't it? I mean, despite everything, this baby had clung onto life inside me, and was now proven not to be Lip's child, so that was definitely something in its favor. Life, for me, at least, seemed to be looking up, and although I knew there would be potential challenges that lay ahead—because, let's face it, I hadn't had any good parental role models in my life and would be completely lost when it came to mothering—I knew I had the opportunity to learn all I could in anticipation of my child's birth.

I found that work was a welcome distraction for me, and in the days and weeks that followed, I was surprised that many of my co-workers seemed nicer to me. Rachel, by this time, of course knew about my pregnancy and had passed it onto Cindy, and I was sure that the entire office pool of assistants—including Hugo's assistant, Bernard, and Nicholas's assistant Isidor—knew all about it as well. I knew there was also a rumor going around that it was Nicholas's baby, but Rachel and Cindy were quick to put such a rumor to rest. I wasn't even three months pregnant yet, but I knew that, when the day came and I was huge, I wanted to be treated the same as I'd always been treated, but, somehow, I thought such a thing was impossible.

"You're tired today," Debbie said when I came home from picking up Liam from school. "Long day at the firm?"

I sighed, quickly moving to take off my boots and stockings. "You have no idea," I replied, moving towards the kitchen for an apple. "Get your homework set up, Liam. Remember, it's Friday, so we'll only do a little bit tonight."

"So on top of everything," Debbie said, flashing me a smile as I moved to join her and Franny on the couch. "You feeling okay?"

I rolled my eyes, biting into the apple and holding the paper towel I'd wrapped it in close to my face to ensure no juice spilled onto my blouse. "Yeah," I replied, for the worst of the morning sickness seemed to be gone. I still had a few flare-ups a few times a week, but it was no longer a constant, which was good. "Happy that it's the weekend..."

"Yeah," Debbie replied as Franny moved onto my lap. "So," she said, mulling over her words for a moment before she spoke, "when were you going to tell me?"

"What?" I asked, my mouth full of a section of apple as I moved Franny into a more comfortable position in my lap. "What do you mean?"

Debbie made a face. "Come _on_ , Murph!" she said, growing impatient. "Even _I_ know that you're pregnant, and that's saying something, considering that I'm the only one of us who's even had a baby!"

I stuck my tongue out at her, and we shared a laugh. "Okay, you're right," I replied, wiping some of the excess juice off my mouth and blowing her a kiss. "I'm pregnant. There. Are you happy to know the information now, little sister?"

Debbie grinned. "Yes," she replied. "So, how far along are you?"

"Um," I said, doing some quick math. "It'll be three months in a little less than two weeks. So, not too far along, but far enough along to know who the father is."

"Not Lip?" Debbie asked, quietly enough that Franny wouldn't understand and Liam, nose-deep in his latest book report book, wouldn't hear. "I mean, it's not..."

"No," I reply, shaking my head. "No, I would've had to...you know," I say, and Debbie nods like she understands. "No, it's not Lip's."

"Is it your boss's son?" she asked, her eyebrows moving up and down. "I looked him up—I mean, he's published some articles in the Northwestern University school paper. He's cute—can I have him if he's not the father?"

I rolled my eyes. "Come on, Debs—he's a grown man."

"Is he the father and my future brother-in-law?" she asked.

I shook my head. "That's a 'no' to both," I reply.

Debbie raised her eyebrows. "Jeez, I didn't know you'd been with so many people..."

"Three," I reply. "And the first two were just one timers. Nicholas and I were more active than that, but he used protection, so..."

"So, it was the second guy?" she asked, keeping her voice low. "Lip was your first?"

"First guy," I said, flashing a grin at Debbie.

"But I thought..." Debbie shook her head. "You said you weren't gay!"

I laughed a little then. "I really don't like labels, Debbie," I said, finishing my apple and wrapping up the core.

"But, you've been with a girl?"

I nodded. "Yeah, I was, once."

"Who was she?"

"Jessica Silvers—she and I lived in Seattle together. The cover story was that we were just best friends, but things got complicated when I skipped a few grades. I invited her over when she was a senior in high school and I was a sophomore in college. She told me she was gay and, as time went on, one thing led to another and we sort of started having fun together..."

"What happened?" Debbie asked.

"Dr. Normal, Tina's husband, found us," I replied. "He beat me up and threw her out of the house and we never were alone together after that."

"But I thought you took those self-defense courses," Debbie said.

I sighed. "The problem was, I was afraid of Dr. Normal," I said quietly. "I was too afraid to stand up for myself and, because of that, when the time came to put the moves, as they were, to good use, I just froze up. I couldn't do anything, and well..." I lifted my shirt then, where the buckle of the belt had sliced my left side, leaving a scar about three inches long. "You win some, you lose some, and, sometimes, you've got to wear the battle scars."

"Jesus," Debbie whispered. "What an asshole."

I nodded. "Yeah, he was. But I learned to live with it, until I could make my escape," I replied, lifting Franny off my lap and movies towards the table. "How's it coming?" I asked, taking a look at the spine of Liam's book. "What are you reading?"

" _Charlie and the Chocolate Factory_ ," he replied.

I grinned. "I love that one. How far have you gotten?"

. . .

I was cleaning in the kitchen that night, Liam having finished his dinner and gone to bed, when there was a knock on the front door. Ian was upstairs checking on Liam, and I quickly washed my hands before drying them on the towel and wandering over to the door. I'd since changed out of my work clothes and into a pair of jeans and a T-shirt; my hormones were so out of control that I was so overheated most of the time, so the fact that my hair was pulled up and back was sort of the norm for times like this.

I opened the front door, plastering a thin line onto my face when I saw Trevor standing on the front porch. I was pleased that he looked equally uncomfortable that it was me standing there, and not Ian or someone else that he could've easily been more comfortable with. "Ian's upstairs making sure Liam's okay," I said, standing back. "Why don't you come in and wait? I'm almost done with washing the dishes and he'll be down soon. I promise not to ruin everything and get in your way," I added, with a touch of sarcasm.

Trevor continued to look uncomfortable. "Uh, okay," he replied.

"Look, Trevor," I said as he came into the house and walked into the living room. "You don't have anything to worry about," I tell him as I shut the door. "It's not like I'm asking you to be my best friend or anything like that," I continue as I wander past him and back into the kitchen to complete my task. "I just want you to be nice to me. I've never not been nice to you... Although I did swear at you a bit that night you came over..."

Trevor sighed. "Look, I had it coming."

I turned around to face him. "Yeah?" I asked.

"Yeah. I was way out of line. Even if I wanted to say those things—"

"Which is your right," I say.

"Thank you. But, yeah, even if I wanted to say those things, my way in saying them was totally uncalled for. I'm sorry."

I gave a short nod. "Thanks. I'm sorry, too," I replied, turning back to the sink. "And just so you know," I continued, "my life was no walk in the park before I got here. I had plenty of fucked up things happen to me. So, my life was no sunshine and butterflies."

"Like what?" Trevor asked.

I sighed. "An abusive stepfather-figure, my constant need to be perfect, and me hiding my girlfriend from the family," I say, laughing a little and shaking my head.

Trevor breathed in sharply then in shock. "Wait. You had a girlfriend?"

I nodded. "Yeah, I did," I replied, sticking my hands into the soapy water again and fishing out a pot we'd used that night for dinner. "Lasted for almost two years before Dr. Normal—my adopted mother's husband—walked in on me with my face in her crotch and then he pretty much blew a gasket..."

"Jesus," Trevor whispered.

I sighed. "Yeah. Too bad the physical marks never really go away..."

"Wait. He hit you?"

I shrugged, re-applying some soap to the scrub brush and scrubbing the pot harder. "It happened so often after they got married—for minor, childish infractions—but this was a total beating. I'll never look at belts the same way again..."

Trevor sighed. "Man, I'm an ass. I really misjudged you, Murph."

I turned and looked over at Trevor. "It's okay. Know why?"

"Why?"

"Because you care about my brother," I replied. "You're my twin brother's boyfriend, and you and I have to learn to get along. We really do."

Trevor stared at me then, taking me in then and, for a moment, it was as if he was doing so for the first time. "You have a glow about you," he said quietly.

I laughed. "A glow? Me?"

"Yeah," he said, shaking his head. "Are you pregnant?"

I laughed again, accidentally slopping soap outside the sink and getting water all over the floor in the moment of humor. "Oh, shit!" I cried.

"Here," Trevor said, coming around to the kitchen area itself and grabbing some paper towels. "I guess that was partially my fault," he said, and was laughing now, too. "I guess I shouldn't have asked you that—it was rude."

I shook my head, grabbing more towels and helping him clean up the mess. "No, it's fine. You don't have anything to apologize for. I am pregnant, so it's all good."

"That's great!" Trevor said, grinning at me. "How far along are you?"

"Eleven weeks or so," I reply. "So, almost three months, I guess—it's so new to me, all this math that comes along for a ride. And I'm scheduled to get my first ultrasound on Monday," I said, gathering the mess of paper towels and throwing them into the trash. "I guess I should be excited, and I am, but I'm nervous as hell too. I mean, for years I thought I couldn't have kids, and now..."

"Who's coming with you?" Trevor asked.

I bit my lip. "Ian's coming with me," I replied.

"The father's not involved?"

I shake my head. "No. I got really drunk one night in a bar, and it just sort of happened. I must've liked the guy, though," I say, and laugh it off, hating that I was lying to Trevor, but thinking that the entire situation was far too complicated to get into.

"And you're just keeping a random guy's baby?"

I nodded. "I am. I remember that he was really nice. So, who knows? Maybe this baby will be nice, too," I joked.

Trevor smiled. "Well, I think you can be a good mother. Ian says you did really well with school, and I think you need to be somewhat intelligent to be a good parent."

I gave a short, burst of laughter then at his words. "That's got to be the nicest thing you've ever said to me, Trevor. Thank you."

Trever grinned. "Well, we've all got to be nice sometimes, Murph."

"What's this I hear about being nice?" Ian asked, striding down the stairs. "Hey," he said, and strode up to Trevor, kissing him before turning to me. "You okay?"

I nodded. "Oh, we're better than okay, Ian. I told Trevor about Monday."

"Oh, the ultrasound?" Ian asked.

"I think it's great," Trevor said to Ian.

"That my sister's pregnant?" Ian joked.

"Well, yeah, because she seems happy about it," Trevor replied. "But also because you're supporting her. We all need family around when a dynamic is about to be changed."

"We're taking bets," Ian replied.

"Hey!" I cried out, gently smacking Ian on the arm. "You know how tacky that sounds, and I don't want the baby to hear it!" I say, covering my stomach protectively.

"Bets on what?" Trevor asked.

"Ian is extorting people to find out who thinks I'm going to have a boy or a girl," I replied, and rolled my eyes. "Personally, I think it's archaic. I find out at the end of next month anyway, and I'm going to tell people on Christmas, but no, my brother has to be impatient and get people out of their hard-earned money..."

"Stop complaining—you make the biggest salary," Ian said with a grin.

"You're terrible," I replied.

"Girl," Trevor said.

I turned and looked at him. "Don't get fresh with me, Trevor," I said with a smile.

"No, I mean, I think it's a girl," Trevor replied.

"Really?" Ian asked. "Everyone's guessing boy because Debbie had a girl. I guess they're convinced that since one Gallagher sister had a girl, the other one who's knocked up has to be having a boy."

"Well, I think it's a girl," Trevor said, grinning at me before turning back to Ian. "Whoever has a mother that strong-willed deserves to be a girl to learn from the best."

"Trevor, you've successfully replaced Ian as my best friend," I said, crossing my arms and giving Ian a look.

"Hey! Wait!" Ian cried out.

I rolled my eyes. "You had to go against me and guess boy, right after Fiona did, so everyone hopped on the damned bandwagon!" I cried. "Trevor's the only other person who guessed girl here..."

"Nobody else guessed girl?" Trevor asked.

I sighed. "I did. And Frank, but he doesn't fucking count..."

"Got any names yet?" Trevor asked.

I nodded. "A few," I replied. "But I want to wait until I'm actually showing to announce them publicly. Don't want to go all premature on people."

"I may have peeked at your search history," Ian said.

"Which is why Trevor has replaced you as my best friend," I replied without missing a beat as I turned back to the sink. "Now, you boys go out and have your fun, but I expect the both of you to be safe."

"No promises," Trevor replied.

I looked over my shoulder at him and grinned. "Have a good time, then."

"That I can promise," Trevor said, flashing me a grin and pulling Ian towards the front door.

Ian hurried back a moment later to grab his jacket. "Hey..."

"Yeah?" I asked, grabbing the final pot and scrubbing it out.

"So, are you and Trevor okay now?"

I smiled. "I think we've come to an understanding."

Ian grinned. "That's good," he replied, pulling me into a hug. "I guess I'll see you in the morning, then."

I nodded, pulling back. "Go," I said encouragingly. "I promise that Liam and I will be fine. You go out and have a good time."

"Thanks!" Ian called over his shoulder, leaving the house.

. . .

On Monday, Ian and I drove Liam to school and then went straight onto my appointment; the plan was, from there, to drop Ian off at work and then get to work myself. After we made sure that Liam was off at school, I drove Ian and me to the hospital. I found I was drumming my palms upon the steering wheel once again; as we stopped at a traffic light on that cloudy day, I found that I felt so underserving of all this.

"Something on your mind?" Ian asked.

I sighed. "I just..."

"What?"

I bit my lip, focusing on the traffic light to make sure I didn't catch Ian's eye. "I guess I just don't understand how you could be okay with any of this..."

"This being?"

I turned to look at Ian then; the traffic light was taking too long anyhow. "Me having a baby with someone who's clearly still in love with you," I replied.

Ian sighed, leaning back against the seat. "Doesn't matter."

"Doesn't matter?" I demanded, getting startled by a car honking behind me. "Okay, okay, I'm moving, you jackass!" I screamed, facing forward again and stepping on the gas. I pulled through the intersection then, sighing. "Look, Ian, I know you've moved on—with Trevor, and I think he's awesome. But..."

"Murph, really..."

"No, Ian, listen, please," I said, my voice shaking then as I kept right on driving, staring at the road to distract myself. "I feel like you're compensating or something."

"What are you talking about, Murph?"

I shrugged. "I don't know what the fuck I'm talking about, Ian. But I do know that something between you and Mickey seems unfinished. Why is that?"

Ian shrugged back at me. "I don't know. Probably because both times we said, 'I love you', the other person didn't say it back. I don't fucking know..."

"I'm sorry. What?" I demanded. "You only said it twice?"

Ian sighed. "I said it in passing once—after Mickey's wedding, but I amended it, because, at the time, I was convinced that Mickey didn't want me," he replied. "But, Mick technically said it first, after I kidnapped Yevgeny and got arrested for stealing Lip's identity for the army. It was after Sammi turned me in, and I stayed with Monica for a while. Mick came to find me, and then he said it, but I broke up with him. And then when he busted out of prison, I said I'd go to Mexico with him..."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," I said, tempted to pull off to the side of the road. "You said you'd go to fucking Mexico with him and you didn't think to tell me this?!"

"I changed my mind at the border," Ian said, lowering his eyes. "I mean, I realized all of it wasn't me anymore. And that's when I said it, that I loved him, to him, despite the fact that we'd been together for days..."

I sighed, coming to a stop at another traffic light. "Shit," I whispered, looking down at my stomach, still not swollen yet. "Ian, you need to tell me something and tell me it right now before I go fucking ape shit..."

"What do you want to know?"

I turned to look at him then, feeling the tears just lurking behind the backs of my eyes. "If you are not okay with me having this baby, then you need to be straight up with me. I know it's going to be fucking awkward regardless, and I know you said you would be supportive, but I know a part of you still loves Mickey, and I do not want you resenting my child. You have every right to resent me—what I did was fucking unforgivable, and I'll never forgive myself for it—but you need to tell me if my baby is unwelcome in any way."

Ian shook his head. "You're right, about it being awkward, and about a part of me still loving Mickey, Murph. But I will not resent you or your child, who is going to be my niece or nephew, because I love you, and I love this baby already."

I sighed. "Promise."

Ian nods. "I promise."

I sighed, hoping that he was telling the truth. "Okay, then," I said, falling back into the line of traffic as we kept driving towards the hospital.

I wanted to scream at the amount of intake forms we were presented with upon arrival to the hospital, but Ian took the amount in his stride. I stuck my tongue out at him as he sat there beside me, helping me with the familial information I was still learning about, and wondered if I could ever memorize the little details he told me about. Ian said I should mention the prevalence of alcoholism and mental illness—things I already knew and yet was aware of their importance—and was hopeful that my child would pass through unscathed.

"Hopefully, but unlikely," Ian said quietly.

I turned to look at him. "You could lie to me," I replied, slumping back against my chair as I continued filling out the form. "I mean, I want to believe the best for this baby, Ian. It's not like either of us have a medical degree..."

"No, but I do work in the medical field," Ian replied. "Still, I know you will fight tooth and nail to make sure this baby is okay."

"Why the fuck wouldn't I?" I said, then remembered that we were in a doctor's waiting room, and felt my face flush as I hid it behind the clipboard and kept writing. "Sorry. These hormones are just crazy right now..."

"Understandable," Ian said gently. "You're carrying something that's pretty much based on the notion that you're donating part of your life force to it, and will continue to do so until the day you die. It's not something that should be taken lightly."

"Not something for the weak-hearted, that's for sure," I said, filling out the last box on the intake form and setting it aside. "This is getting tiresome," I muttered, reaching into my purse for a hair tie and gathering up my hair, before putting it into a bun on my head. "There. That should alleviate some of the heat..."

"You could always chop it off," Ian suggested.

I laughed aloud then. "Right, and then I'll buy some stilts so we can really look like twins. Think of all the shenanigans we could get into..."

Ian smirked. "Well, have you ever considered cutting your hair?"

I sighed. "No. Not since I was allowed to decide for myself."

Ian's hands clenched around the arms of his chair. "Did Dr. Normal do something?"

"He would chop it off for minor infractions from the time I was six until I was eighteen," I replied, rolling my shoulders. "When he caught me with Jessica, he shaved my head. It took my years to get it this long, and from that day until my graduation from college, I just kept my head down and tried not to make waves..."

"Son of a bitch," Ian whispered. "Sounds like a living hell..."

I shrugged. "Hey, I'm okay now," I said, reaching out and taking one of his hands, which caused his entire body to relax. "It helped me to become the person I am today—the one who had the courage to break free of her chains and to find a new life for herself, with the family she was taken away from, but found again."

Ian smiled a little then. "You're an inspiration, you know that, Murph?" he asked. "I mean, so many people in your shoes—men and women—could've crumbled from the affect that Dr. Normal had on you, but you..."

"I thrived, I guess," I replied, shrugging my shoulders again, as I so often did when people complimented me. "Who knows? Maybe all of this was supposed to happen—our own separate hells before things got better..."

"You factoring the baby into things getting better?"

I smiled. "Well, yeah. I mean, now that it turns out that my childhood doctor was likely feeding me a bunch of bullshit—everyone was under Dr. Normal's thumb, it seemed—I guess now things can keep going the way they are now."

Ian nodded. "And what about Nicholas?"

"What?"

"Does he factor into anything?" he asked. "Do you think he will?"

I smiled and shook my head. "No. Nicholas and I needed something to come to an understanding about where the both of us stood at the firm. Now that that's been achieved..." I shrugged. "I don't think we'll need aggressive treatment anymore."

"Aggressive?" Ian asked.

I looked around, finding that the waiting room was virtually empty, but still didn't want to take any chances. I leaned in closer to him, and whispered, "Let's just say that our trysts may have been a bit...unconventional."

Ian smirked, shaking his head as he attempted to ward off the laughter he so wanted to exude at what I said. "Murph, it's me," he said. "If we're talking about unconventional fucking, then I'm pretty much its poster child. Tell me what you mean."

I bit my lip, leaning in closer to my twin then and said quietly, "Well, we only kissed twice," I replied, and Ian looked confused. "I didn't want him kissing me. He initiated the first half of our kiss, and I did the second half, plus the second kiss. Then, we didn't kiss; I would just come into the office to blow off steam, and he would lie me down on my stomach on the desk and then we would...you know, fuck."

"Did he...?" Ian asked, and raised his eyebrows before looking behind me.

I shake my head. "No. Just...traditional except not facing each other," I replied.

Ian nodded, understanding. "And... Well, you liked it, didn't you?"

I let out a short laugh then. "I kept going back for more. What does that tell you?"

"Either you liked it, or it was Stockholm Syndrome," he replied as a door opened.

"Murphy Gallagher?" the nurse said.

I got to my feet, pulling Ian with me. "That's me," I replied, and we strode forward and towards the door.

"And what is your relation to the patient?" the nurse asked Ian in a pleasant voice as I handed over my intake forms.

"Twin brother," Ian replied.

"Oh. Well, then, by all means, come back with us," she said with a smile.

We were led to a different room than I'd been to on all my hospital visits; this one was pretty much all completely dark, and I was made to lie back on a table as an ultrasound machine was wheeled in shortly thereafter. Ian perched on the other side of the machine, and the nurse asked about my appetite and how I'd been feeling recently before she went to fetch the ultrasound technician, who was due back from another appointment any moment.

"It's too early to know the sex now, right?" Ian asked.

I nodded. "Yes. I'm only eleven weeks. You need to be at least sixteen to twenty weeks—or about halfway through the pregnancy—to know that."

Ian grinned, perching on the high chair he'd been given. "I still say it's a boy..."

I roll my eyes. "Just because Mickey had Yevgeny with Svetlana doesn't automatically mean he could have a boy with me," I replied.

Ian shrugged. "The Milkovich family only had Mandy as a girl, and we Gallagher's only had Sammi, Fiona, you, and Debbie. So, boys outnumber the girls...on both sides," he said, as I looked as if I wanted to jab him in the ribs. "Hey, come on, Murph," he said as I looked away from him. "You know as well as I do that a healthy baby is all that matters."

I made a mock groan. "And you know as well as I do that, with a mentally ill mother and a criminal father, that this baby really has a winning chance," I muttered.

The ultrasound technician came into the hospital room then, greeting me warmly and seemed pleased to meet Ian as well. "Well, who's to say that there won't be two babies lurking around in there?" she joked, instructing me to roll up my shirt and yank down my skirt ever so slightly to accommodate her. She brought out some towels, tucking them into my clothing to ensure the goo wouldn't stain them, and brought it out of something which resembled a warming pan. "I like to warm it up for my patients," she explained, gathering up the wand and putting a layer of plastic on it for sanitation purposes.

"So, you'll really be able to tell if Murphy's going to be having twins?" Ian asked.

"Yes," the doctor replied. "We can tell between ten weeks and thirteen weeks and six days. So, there should be something for us to see." She keyed in a code onto the system, before putting the warmed goo onto the wand and positioning it onto my abdomen. "Let's see..." She said quietly, and dragged it from one end to the other. "Here, we are," she said, positioning the screen so that Ian and I could see it. "There's Baby Gallagher."

Immediately, my hands flew to my mouth, but they could not completely extinguish the small cry that escaped through my lips. "Oh, my god," I whispered into them.

"Wow! The baby _does_ take after you!" Ian said, grinning as he took in the screen. "Look at the size of that head!"

Immediately, I smacked him. "Hey, the baby still can't hear you for another seven weeks, and won't be able to react until after we find out if it's a he or a she, but come on! It's a Gallagher, and we all deserve some respect."

Ian eyed me then. "You clearly Googled that."

"Hey, I can't help it if my pregnancy books are taking forever to ship," I replied, crossing my arms and pouting at him.

The ultrasound technician laughed. "The kidneys, intestines, brain and liver are already formed and have begun functioning," she said gently. "The baby already has fingernails and toenails, and the bones have begun the hardening process and the genitalia is forming as we speak. The baby can also hiccup," she said proudly.

"Hiccup? Really?" I asked.

The technician nodded. "Well, of course—everyone hiccups. You won't be able to feel it for a while, though—the baby isn't quite big enough for that."

"Sounds like a sequel to that one book, _Everybody_ —"

I slapped a hand over Ian's mouth. "Does the baby look okay?" I asked.

She nodded, zooming in on various locations and pointing out points of interest. "Now, of course, I have to ask—would you two like to hear the heartbeat?"

"Yes," Ian and I said together.

"Okay," she replied, keying in something to the system. "Here we go."

The room was suddenly filled with whooshing noises, and I felt my eyes filling with tears as I made a grab for Ian's hand. We listened for another few moments until our time was up, and the technician went to print out some ultrasound pictures for me. I sat up then, gathering up the towels she had given me and whipped off my midriff before hopping down from the table and re-arranging my clothes. Ian and I walked out of the room then, meeting the technician who handed over my photos and made sure my next appointment was all set in stone before I went out into the parking lot with Ian to drive him to work.

"So, now that you have a vague idea of what your baby looks like, do any name ideas come to mind?" he asked.

I sighed, sticking my key into the ignition and pulling us carefully out of the parking space. "I guess Ian," I replied.

"You guess you came up with some names?" Ian asked.

I laughed as we pulled out of the parking lot. "No, silly," I replied, pulling into the line of traffic and setting a course for his place of work. "I mean the name Ian."

Ian stared at me for a moment, which I didn't catch until we got to our first traffic light. "I thought you said the baby was a girl..."

I shrugged. "You convinced me," I replied with a grin. "I'm team boy now, and I want to name the baby Ian, after my amazing brother who's stood by me in this."

Ian grinned. "I knew I could get you onto our side!"

"This isn't about sides—it's about genetics," I replied, pulling through the intersection. "And what you said is right—the boys outweigh the girls on both sides, Gallagher and Milkovich, so it only makes sense that this baby would be a boy."

Ian laughed. "So, Ian Gallagher II, huh?" he asked.

I laughed. "I guess so," I replied.

"What about a middle name?" Ian wanted to know. "I mean, you wouldn't give him my complete name, would you?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. A family name would be nice..."

"Please don't name him Ian Frank Gallagher—anything but that..."

I rolled my eyes. "No, trust me... I was actually thinking of Ian Phillip Gallagher, and I know it'll be seen as controversial due to our past, but nothing about our family is incontrovertible, Ian. I mean, hey, fact is, we're pretty out there..."

"I think it's a great name, Murphy," Ian said, and I turned to look at him with a smile. "I couldn't have picked a better one."

I let out a short laugh then as I reached down and touched my stomach. "Just can't wait for Baby Ian to move, and actually tell us if it's Baby Ian or not..."

"What if it is a girl?" Ian asked as we turned onto his block for work. "What'll you name Baby Ian if she's a girl?"

"Easy," I replied. "Iana Philippa Gallagher."

Ian grinned. "You think of everything."

I shrugged. "I guess I'm just wired that way. I had to be, remember? I didn't have allies until I was twenty-one. And now..." I sighed, pulling up to his work place. "Now I think I can relax it a little."

"Just a little," Ian said with a grin, leaning in to kiss my forehead before he got out of my car, waving to me before he slipped inside his work.


	3. Erase and Rewind

Chapter Three: Erase and Rewind

After dropping Ian off at work, I went to the firm and straight to my office after bidding Rachel and Cindy a good morning. I'd gotten an email from Allie, informing me that she and Hugo would be spending the day with Charlotte and that I was free to use her office for the day. I brought the most important things with me into Allie's office, but left one of the copies of my ultrasound photo on my desk, to decide where to put it later. Almost as soon as I'd sat down at Allie's desk, Nicholas texted me to remind me that we had a scheduled video conference call with Judge Whitmore in an hour, and that Jasmine would be on her way shortly to prepare with us and to take part in it.

I let Nicholas know that I was there and in his mother's office before I reached into my purse and pulled out my notes, written over the weekend in anticipation of the conference call. It was today that Judge Whitmore would let us know if Jasmine's appeal for sanctuary had gone through in a successful manner, and then would come the final verdict on sentencing for Johnny. Johnny and his attorney then would be patched through, and Judge Whitmore would let us know when that would be, so as we could move Jasmine to a more secure location so as she wouldn't have to see or hear Johnny. I gave a cursory glance to my notes before I returned them to my file folder and got to my feet, grabbing my cell phone as well before leaving Allie's office and walking down the hallway to the conference room.

"Good morning," I said breezily to Nicholas, who was already there, chewing on a granola bar and sipping some coffee. "Good weekend?"

"Fine," he replied shortly. "Yours?"

"Good, thanks." I walked up to the food table which had already been set up, taking an oatmeal cookie, which normally I didn't like but knew it would be better for the baby. I poured myself a cup of tea and made my way to the other side of the table to sit beside Nicholas. "You're awfully chatty this morning," I put in, setting down my notes and sitting beside him.

He shrugged. "The office is rife with gossip."

I blinked, shaking my head at his insinuation as I opened up my file folder and looked over my notes before taking a bite of my cookie, which truly tasted awful, but I somehow managed to force it down anyway. "Meaning?" I asked.

He sighed, his shoulders slacking a bit as he leaned back against his chair. "When were you going to tell me that people in the office think the baby is mine?"

"Goddammit are they still saying that?!" I cried out, and Nicholas held up his hands in a surrendering gesture at my sudden outburst, which could be interpreted as being completely directed at him, although it really wasn't, to come to the point. "Rachel and Cindy said they would put a stop to it..."

"Well, either they didn't, or they didn't do a good job of trying."

I rolled my eyes. "God, what does it matter?" I said, annoyance peppering my tone as I attempted to consider it from his point of view. "I mean, it's not like you are the father—you couldn't be the father, Nicholas, and you know it. The condoms we used when we were together never broke and they weren't expired. Besides, the conception dates they gave me was a full two weeks before first started sleeping together. Trust me—there's no way that you're the father, and you're just going to have to believe that."

Nicholas sighed, his tone slightly testy. "I do believe that, Murphy—I'm just sick and tired of being gossiped about."

I nodded. "I can understand that... We'll discuss this with your parents when they come back and we'll figure it out together."

Nicholas shook his head. "I don't think they should know about this."

"Why? Your mom knows..."

"Did you fucking tell her?" Nicholas asks, his voice stiff.

I turn back and look at him. "No, I didn't fucking tell her," I replied, hurt that he would even believe that, and Nicholas looked humbled at the pain I'd felt at his implication of my supposed wrong-doing. "She pretty much told me that she knew that there was something going on. I assured her that you weren't the father, but, for the life of me, I couldn't understand why she looked so disappointed..."

Nicholas shrugged. "I don't know. I think she wants me to find a nice girl to settle down with eventually, you know?"

I laugh. "Well, it's not me."

Nicholas laughed back. "We agree on something, then!"

"Oh, thank you, thank you," I said, grinning at him, my voice filled with angry sarcasm as I shuffled my paperwork.

"Although, I could do a lot worse," Nicholas put in.

I shook my head. "The Gallagher's are too fucked up for you, Nicholas," I told him, turning back to my case notes and going through them again.

Jasmine arrived shortly thereafter; that day, she wore a pinstripe white blouse and matching blazer, along with a black secretary skirt that reached her knees. She also wore her black patent leather shoes again, and smiled as she came into the room, her lawyer at her side, as was the custom for arrangements like this. After we all shook hands, we returned to our seats, making small talk until Judge Whitmore was due to call. Jasmine gently tapped her long, red nails on the tabletop, absentmindedly chewing a peach as she likely contemplated what she was going to say when the call came through.

Judge Whitmore got into the system a moment later, and Nicholas, who had control of the key pad, pressed the button to allow him access to our feed in the conference room. I found myself automatically straightening up in my seat, not wanting to be given any special treatment, just because of my pregnancy. Nevertheless, once his picture was clear and reception on both ends was established, Judge Whitmore's eyes locked onto mine and he smiled.

"Well, Miss Gallagher, I hear congratulations are in order," he said.

I felt myself flush then, knowing that we shouldn't be taking up the meeting with discussing my personal life, but also knowing that, as a fucking judge, Judge Whitmore had to be treated with respect and dignity. "Thank you, Your Honor," I replied, knowing that it was best to keep things formal during these proceedings.

"And when will Baby Gallagher be born?" he asked.

I tried to keep a straight face as Nicholas kicked me beneath the table, letting me know to wrap this shit up. "Not until May," I replied, swiftly kicking Nicholas back, so much so that he swore under his breath and shot me a look, which I did not acknowledge as I grinned innocently at Judge Whitmore. "Plenty of time to focus on this case, and many others."

"Oh, right yes, the case," Judge Whitmore said, and I was pleased that I'd managed to circle him back to the matter at hand. "Miss Jones, you are known by birth as Jasmina Garcia, is that correct?" he asked.

Jasmine straightened in her seat. "Yes, Your Honor."

"And is there any particular reason you decided to go by an assumed name?" he asked.

It didn't take long for Jasmine's attorney to spring into action, and he whispered in Jasmine's ear before she nodded. "Judge Whitmore—Attorney Barry Wilcox from Davidson, Sherman, and Wilcox," he said, and I found I was surprised that Jasmine apparently had gotten someone so good to represent her. "My client is not on trial here today. Will she be able to walk out of here at the end of this interview?"

"As you said, your client is not on trial here, and, as I'm sure you remember, counselor, was given immunity for everything she did. She signed a statement, admitting to her bystander status when Mr. Sanders committed these atrocious crimes, so she is not to blame," Judge Whitmore explained to Barry patiently. "Nothing Miss Jones says here today will be put to the police department, as if part of her agreement."

"I will answer," Jasmine said, speaking for the first time. "I was forced into prostitution back home, and saw America as a means of escape. This is why I am applying for permanent residence here, to escape the terrible things I was forced to do back home. Unfortunately, crime does not always leave you, and I was forced back into the game, but, this time, as a distraction when my former boyfriend, Johnny, had his clients sample his drugs."

"And what happened on the night in question, Miss Jones?" Judge Whitmore asked. "You stated, in your testimony, that you believed yourself to be in immediate danger."

"Yes," she replied. "Johnny said he'd planted a bomb at the warehouse downtown, and, if there weren't enough people for us to solicit to that night, then he would blow it up, and all of us would be severely punished."

Judge Whitmore nodded. "Yes, I can see the problem," he replied. "Well, that's enough for me on the case of Miss Jasmine Jones. I'm ruling that she may stay in the country, and has an interview with immigration in a month to determine her legal status in this country. You were very brave to stand up against injustice, Miss Jones. I wish you well."

Jasmine looked visibly relieved. "Thank you, Your Honor," she replied, and she and Barry Wilcox left the room.

"We will engage in a ten-minute recess while we await for Johnny Sanders and his attorney to become available," Judge Whitmore ruled, and our connection was paused.

"You seem to be very protective of Jasmine," I say quietly, bringing forward my points in the closing arguments that he and I had already gone over.

Nicholas shrugged. "I guess I kind of have to be."

I blinked, turning to look at him. "Why? Because you're one of her only friends here?" I ask him, genuinely curious.

Nicholas shakes his head. "No. Because she and I... Well, we're kind of seeing each other at the moment," he replied.

I blinked. "I thought you thought the whole dating thing was archaic," I replied.

He smirked. "Well, doesn't mean I can't try it," he replied.

I nodded. "Yeah, no, of course," I said, hating myself for stumbling over my words as I looked over what I was and wasn't permitted to say, once the chat feed opened again. "Can't knock it till you've tried it, I guess..."

"That's what I thought, too," Nicholas replied.

I turned around and looked at him before I smiled. "Well, she's lovely. I don't think you could've found a better person."

Nicholas smiled. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."

I shook my head. "You don't need one from me," I replied. "Just be careful, okay? I know you really like her, but..." I shrugged. "You know."

Nicholas nodded. "Thanks," he replied.

I turned back to my notes. "Don't mention it," I replied.

. . .

The end of the week couldn't come soon enough, and as I arrived home that Friday with Liam in tow, we went inside and I sent him directly into the kitchen to do his homework. Ian and I had agreed that we should only help him with his assignments if he truly didn't understand the material, and then go from there. I didn't mind; I would frequently just sit on the couch and go over my own work, for most of Liam's questions were how to spell certain words or to re-explain the instructions in a different way.

A knock on the door about two hours after we got back startled me, and as I got to my feet and walked towards the door, I groaned audibly as I saw Frank standing there. "Liam?" I called back into the kitchen.

"Yeah?"

"Go and finish your homework upstairs, please," I said, keeping my tone firm, and I felt relief when I heard him gathering his things and heading upstairs and opened the door. "How may I help you, Frank?" I asked, crossing my arms.

Frank rolled his eyes. "You're like a goddamned clone of Fiona," he said, and I scoffed at the scent of liquor on his breath.

"Better a clone of her than other members of this family," I replied, narrowing my eyes at him and trying to stand my ground. "Now, what do you want?"

Frank sighed. "Maybe you could call me 'Dad' once in a while, Murphy, because that's who I am, and father's deserve respect."

I straightened myself up then, quickly growing impatient with him. "Let me tell you how many wrong things there are with that statement," I tell him. "You nearly slept with Sammi; you made Fiona mother the children you decided to keep; you let Lip turn into a womanizer; you allowed Ian to go on in life without your support; you let Debbie be uneducated about sex; you let Carl get fucking married; and you sold Liam! Not to mention you let your wife and my mother just get rid of me!" I cried out. "If you knew about me, why the fuck didn't you do or say anything all these years?!"

Frank sighed. "Those were dark days, Murph..."

"I _don't_ want to hear about your dark days!" I said back, hating myself when my eyes filled with tears and my voice shook. "You're a major fuck-up, Frank Gallagher!"

Frank crossed his arms. "You can say whatever you want to me or about me, Murphy. Fact remains that I'm the only father you've got."

"Stop it," I said, cursing myself for showing emotion in front of him. "Just stop it. I don't owe you a fucking thing, Frank!" _Ian_ , I thought you myself, _we're close enough now that maybe, somehow you can hear my thoughts in a crisis_? _Frank is fucking here_...

Frank shrugged. "I'm not saying you do. I'm just asking for a chance."

I shake my head at him. "Why the fuck should I give you a chance? You abandoned me, Frank—you abandoned all of us. I may have not been here to see it, but goddammit I know everything that happened from Ian, Debbie, and Fiona. They told me everything, because we're a fucking family, and family's fucking talk to each other."

Frank hesitated for a moment before he reached out then, taking ahold of my scarf, tucked into the collar of my sweater, and yanked me towards him. "You're never too old for me to fucking beat you," he said through his teeth.

I didn't look away from him, not for a moment. "Fucking try it," I said through my teeth. "I've survived far worse, believe me. I don't need to remind you that I'm fucking pregnant either, considering you already knew without me fucking telling you. Go ahead and do it. What do you have to lose that you haven't lost already?"

"I'm not going to hit you—"

"What are you, a goddamn coward now?!" I demanded, not knowing what I was doing. "Too scared to hit your lowly pregnant daughter that you abandoned?! Are you that much of a coward to hit me, when I'm sure you hit the rest of them at least once?! Do it!" I screamed, finding that I wasn't even shaking in his grip. "Be a man and hit me!"

Frank looked as if he would shove me away from him in that moment, but then his fist came at a million miles per hour, slamming into my face, and I heard a crack as it made contact. He released me then, allowing me to fall backwards into the doorway, hitting my head as I went down. He then turned around and walked down the stairs, like the coward he was, and I heard the gate swinging shut behind him.

I felt my mouth filling with blood then, and I knew that, despite the fact that I knew I could fade out in that moment, I needed to turn over before I choked to death. My head spinning, I turned over onto my stomach, feeling the bump already beginning to protrude from the back of my skull where it had hit the ground. My temples were throbbing as I somehow managed to push myself to my knees, and kick the front door closed behind me. I crawled through the living room and into the kitchen, where I just got to the bathroom, where I rose from my crawling position to make a grab for the bathroom counter.

I gasped aloud at what I saw in the mirror—my jaw was slightly lopsided, and my face was red and swollen, not to mention the fact that my lips refused to close completely, which caused a string of expletives to strain through them. My bones felt stiff from the impact the floor had had on my fall and, as I reached up, I felt a hot spot on the back of my skull, where my head had made direct contact with the floor just moments ago.

I reached up then, tentatively touching my jaw, attempting to move it back into place, and I visibly winced, tears pouring out of my eyes. "Fuck," I managed to get out, getting a good look at myself before I turned towards the toilet and vomited, blood pouring from my mouth like there was no tomorrow. "Shit..." I whispered.

The back door opened then and, upon turning around, I saw Ian entering the kitchen, Trevor in tow, with some takeout. Sighing, I felt resigned to the idea of letting them know and when I stepped out of the bathroom, Trevor grabbed the bag immediately to prevent Ian from dropping it as Ian advanced over to me then, his dark eyes full of shock, anger, and fear. I wanted to talk, but Ian held up his hand before yanking me into his arms.

"What the fuck happened to you?!" he demanded, pushing me back gently and getting a good look at me. "Shit. You're jaws' broken—what happened?!"

I sighed again, trying to remember the methods of enunciating from my public speaking class. "I did this," I whispered.

"What?" Trevor asked, walking up to me. "Don't give the lame 'I walked into a door' speech, Murph, really. What happened?"

"It's my fault," I replied, my voice shaking.

Ian shook his head. "Murph, what do you—?"

"Frank...came over," I say, forcing myself to speak, even though I know full well the potential damage of doing just that. "I screamed...at him...for everything...he did to me...and to us. He grabbed me...then I provoked him..."

"Provoked him?" Ian asked.

"He was going...to hit me," I said, trying to ignore the pain. "I told him to...hit me. He said he wasn't going to... I called him a...coward..."

"And he hit you?" Trevor guessed.

"Yes," I replied. "He hit me."

"Son of a bitch," Ian whispered.

"I'm sorry," I replied.

Ian turned and looked at me then, shaking his head. "You don't have anything to be sorry for, Murph, do you hear me? Nothing!" he said, pulling me in for another hug. "Trevor, can you watch Liam while I take Murph to emergency?" he asked, pulling back from me.

Trevor nodded, leaning in to kiss Ian before smiling at him. "Of course, man. Does he have any homework?" he asked me.

I nodded to him. "Yes. He's upstairs."

"Cool," Trevor replied, hugging me before leaving the room and heading upstairs.

"Look, I'm sorry," I said again as we moved back towards the front door, and I moaned then as I saw a trail of blood leading from there and to the bathroom. "Fuck," I whispered, my knees weakening at the sight of it.

"Murph?" Ian asked. "You okay?"

"Fine," I whispered. "Just need...my coat," I said, walking past the blood to take it, but the throbbing in my head got worse then. As I grabbed my coat, I turned around to face Ian, and I gasped as black spots threatened to take over my vision.

"Murphy?" he asked, his tone worried.

"Oh, god," I whispered.

"Murphy?!" Ian cried, his tone escalating.

"What's happening?" I whispered, reaching towards him as my knees gave way, and I would've fallen to the ground, were it not for Ian's arms, before I saw black.

. . .

I felt my eyes springing open then, feeling the sensation of being in a sanitary environment as the bright lights momentarily blinded me. My head throbbing had diminished severely, and as I looked down, I saw that I was on an I.V., which I'm sure was deemed necessary. I managed to push myself up slightly, rolling my shoulders and looking around the room, spotting my coat and folded clothes on a chair across the room, and was suddenly aware of the lavender hospital gown on my person. On the chair next to my bed was Ian's EMT jacket, and, as I looked around, I saw the room was completely empty of people, which worried me.

Looking around, I saw, on the bedside table, that there was a box, which appeared like some kind of medieval remote control, with several buttons. One was labeled CALL BUTTON, which did look promising, so I reached over and pressed it. I heard a flurry of activity outside my hospital room then, and when the door opened, an unfamiliar doctor stood there, so I quickly pulled up my hospital blankets to appear modest.

"Good morning, Miss Gallagher, I'm Dr. Fairfax," the doctor said with a smile, my chart in his hand as he crossed the room, taking out a notepad and a pen from his pocket. "We've taken the liberty of wiring your jaw shut, for we assessed it and determined it to be broken. This is how you can communicate for a while," he said, handing over the pad and pen.

Quickly, I grabbed both of them and scrawled something down in the blue ink, my first question being, _Where is my brother_?

"Oh, you must mean your twin brother, Ian," he said. "He waited up all night after you were out of surgery, so we suggested he go to the cafeteria to get some coffee. He's there with your sister, Fiona, now."

I wrote down another question. _Is Fairfax a common name for you doctors_?

The man laughed—he was cute enough, I supposed, if you liked a blue-print for frat boys; he had dark brown hair and brown eyes, along with a pleasant expression that seemed to be interwoven into his facial features. "Oh, you must be a patient of my mother's," he replied. "I'm Josh, her son—well, younger son, really. My older brother is a surgeon, and I'm a general practitioner, who specializes in pediatrics. Then there's my sister, Clarissa, who teaches chemistry and physics at Northwestern University..."

 _How long_?

"How long will you be here?"

I wrote down more. _Sure_ , _let's start with that_.

Josh smiled. "Pending a review by me, you should be clear to go home later on this afternoon," he replied. "We've taken the liberty of writing you a referral to your place of employment, where we suggest you take a few weeks off to recover. In the meantime, get plenty of rest, don't get too much excitement, and you must adhere to a liquid diet for at least a month."

I sighed, nodding. _You're the doctor_.

"Now, for the matter of your pain medication," he replied. "We're prescribing you extra-strength Tylenol, as it is one of the few pain reliefs that won't harm your baby."

 _You know I'm pregnant_?

Josh laughed. "Of course—I've been given access to your medical records, and it is indicated clearly in several spots. Don't worry—we want what's best for you and your baby."

I nodded, writing, _Thank you_.

"You're welcome," Josh replied. "Pending an exam, you should get all that junk out of your mouth in between four and six weeks, which is what I recommend you take off from work. Once the mechanisms are out and you can walk and talk comfortably again, we'll think about you going back. Okay?"

 _Okay_ , I wrote.

"Good to know we're on the same page. Will there be anything else?"

 _Can I see my brother and sister now_?

Josh smiled. "Of course—I'll head down directly and tell them you're up, as soon as I've checked you over," he replied. He got out his instruments, listening to my heart and testing my vision, hearing, and other reflexes before writing down his findings. "Everything seems to check out here, Miss Gallagher."

I quickly wrote down, _Call me Murphy_.

"Very well, Murphy—everything seems to check out. Let's take a look at that nasty bump on the back of your head," he said, parting my hair to get a cook look. "The cooling treatment seems to have helped—the swelling has gone down severely, and it could be gone within a matter of days, which is good news. How's your head pain?"

 _Non-existent_.

"Perfect," Josh said, nodding with approval at my supposed good attitude. "I also have to check the extent of your bruising, I'm afraid, Murphy. Would you prefer it if a nurse did it and reported her findings directly to me, or do you mind me looking?"

I shrugged, writing, _You're a doctor. You can look_.

"Very well then," he said, motioning for me to unlace the back of my hospital gown, and he placed his hands gently upon my back. "I'm just going to apply pressure on various points to ensure that we didn't miss any breakage. All right, Murphy?"

I wrote, _Go ahead_.

The pressure he applied was minimal, and I was relieved when I didn't cry out, and only winced a little at the feeling of it all. "Well, suffice it to say, the bruising is quite extensive," he replied softly, allowing me to re-lace my gown. "Your brother didn't know the full extent of what happened, Murphy. Can you tell me, please?"

I sighed, pulling the notepad closer to me. _I was adopted at three months old, and I only recently found out my birth family when I moved here to work at a law firm—I'm an attorney. Anyhow, I moved in with my brothers, and now we live together. My biological father is essentially a deadbeat, and we've had very little interaction. Last night, he came to the house and we had an argument where he grabbed me, and I ended up provoking him, which ended with him hitting me in the jaw, breaking it. I fell backwards, landing on my head and back, and managed to turn over to prevent me from choking on my own blood_.

Josh read my words and sighed, shaking his head. "Do you want to file assault charges, Murphy?" he asked.

I shook my head. _No_.

Josh bit his lip, almost as if he wanted to say something, but hesitated. "All right. That's your decision, Murphy. I'll go and get Ian and Fiona now."

I nodded, thanking him as best I could before he left the room. I leaned back against the pillows that had been provided for me, which eased the aches in my back. It was silent in the few moments that followed, until I heard Fiona's voice echoing through the hallway a moment later and then my door came open, and there Fiona and Ian stood.

"Oh, my god," Fiona said, rushing forward and yanking me towards her, as Ian had done the night before. "Ian said Frank did this—is that true?" she demanded.

I pulled back, writing, _Sorry, can't physically talk. But yes, Frank did this. But it was my fault because I told him to_.

"Son of a bitch," Fiona whispered, sitting on my bed and cupping my face. "You listen to me right now Murphy—Frank is a fucking asshole who shouldn't be anywhere near you. You're vulnerable to him because you didn't grow up with him and he might not say it now, but he'll want something eventually."

I sighed. _I'm sorry_.

"Don't say that," Ian said, stepping forward and pulling his chair closer to my bed before taking my hand in his. "Frank's not a happy person, and he took out some of his unhappiness on you, and I can't tell you how sorry I am for that."

I smiled then and shook my head, picking up the pen again before shopping them the notepad with another grin. _Having you around me helps_.

Fiona sighed, clasping my free hand. "Well, we're not going anywhere, Murphy. We can both promise you that."

. . .

The swelling on my scalp disappeared by the beginning of the following week, and, by mid-week, a lot of the swelling had gone down on my jaw. My pain was minimal, due to the medication I'd been given, and I was able to open my mouth and even managed to speak for short periods of time by the end of the week. The week was uneventful; I'd given Ian access to my car to drive to and from work, and he was taking Liam to school each day. I mostly spent my time working from home, cleaning, or cooking, which Ian was reluctant for me to do, but I insisted that it helped my healing process.

At the end of the first week, Ian and Trevor took Liam out for a movie on Saturday night, and I had the house to myself. I intended to catch up on some case notes, maybe blend up something for my dinner later on, but fate had other ideas. Just as I was settling in as day turned into night, a knock at the door startled me. I made a grab for a baseball bat, not wanting a repeat of what had happened with Frank but, when I got to the door, Lip was standing there.

"Hey," I managed to get out. "You're kind of late to the welcome home party," I joked. "I mean, everyone's been here—Ian and Fiona are being helicopter siblings; Debbie's always over just to check in, and Carl's even come over once or twice. Liam isn't asking for help on his homework from me—he thinks he's helping..." I broke off then, seeing Liam wobbling ever so slightly on the porch. "You okay?" I asked.

Lip sighed, raising his fist; his knuckles were cut in several places, and were a mix of deep red and purple. "Hand hurts," he replied, and his speech was slurred.

"Oh, my god, Lip!" I cried, grabbing him and pulling him inside, somehow maneuvering him onto the couch in the living room before running back to the door and shutting it. I found the first-aid kit in the bathroom, grabbing it and went into the kitchen, filling a baggy with ice before wrapping it in a towel. "Can you hold this in place?" I asked.

"Yeah," Lip replied, but made no move to take it.

"Here," I replied, reaching out and gently placing it upon his hand, which caused him to inhale sharply through his teeth. "I'm sorry, but it'll help keep it from swelling."

Lip nods. "I know."

"What did you do to get this?" I asked.

"Got in a fight with Frank outside The Alibi," he replied.

"Jesus Christ, Lip," I replied.

He shrugged. "I was up to five shots of whiskey, and I just...snapped. Then fucking Frank walked in, and I just saw red. I couldn't help it..."

"Lip?"

"...so I said we needed to talk, and pretty much just dragged him out of there. I just wanted a straight answer, you know?" he whispered, his speech still slurred. "He refused to give me one, and all he said, over and over, was, 'The bitch deserved it'."

I shook my head at him. "Lip, you didn't need to..."

"Beat up Frank? Fuck yeah I did," he replied, moving to punch the air, but winced, likely because his entire arm was shot from beating up our father. "Sorry..."

I smiled. "Well, I know why you did it. Your proactive side for your sister came out. Thank you, Lip, really—it means a lot."

Lip sighed, his eyelids growing heavy. "Yeah...sister."

I shook my head, pulling an afghan from the back of the couch. "You get some sleep and get some of that booze out of your system," I reply, covering him up. I go to the kitchen then, and take a bucket out from under the sink and placing it beside the couch. "If you have need, and can't get to the bathroom," I explain, moving to leave.

"Murphy..." Lip whispered.

I turned around then, not knowing how drunk Lip was, but also knowing that he was likely exhausted as well. "Yes, Lip?" I asked, taking out my phone and texting Ian the situation, just to keep him informed. "What is it?"

"I wish..." He sighed a little, sleep threatening to overtake him. "I wish you weren't... I wish you weren't my sister."

I smiled a little. "I know, Lip. It's okay..."

"No, s'not," he replied, his voice firm, yet still slurred. "It's s'not okay, Murphy... I wish that you weren't my sister..."

"I know, Lip," I replied patiently. "You said that already."

"No, no, no...no sister..."

I smiled. "You had way too much to drink, Lip," I went on. "You don't know what you're saying, and you sure as hell won't remember tomorrow..."

"I know what 'm saying..."

I laughed a little then. "Sure, Lip..."

Lip sighed, taking every ounce of strength to open his eyes. "I love you, Murphy," he said then, and reached towards me, but I just patted his arm.

"I know, Lip. Love you too, man. You're my brother..."

"Not brother," Lip replied. "Not like a brother..."

I sighed. "Okay, Lip," I said carefully, inching backwards then to leave the room to let him get some sleep. "That's enough now..."

"I wish the baby was mine," Lip said quietly, before his lids grew heavy and his arm slumped down beside the couch in sleep.

I sighed, looking down at my phone again.

 _So, he defended your honor_? Ian asked.

I bit my lip, slowly looking up at our brother, still passed out on the couch, for a moment before texting Ian back. _Yeah, apparently so. But I think it means something different to him than it does to me_.

 _Really_? _Why's that_?

I sighed, shaking my head before texting Ian back. _I guess because Lip still has feelings for me_ , I said, hesitating for a moment before pressing "send".


	4. The Fallout

Chapter Four: The Fallout

I couldn't sleep that night, and found myself just lying there in the darkness of my bedroom, on my side, staring out through the sliver of silver light which crept through my curtains. The silver soon turned to the gray dawn and then, pink light filtered into my bedroom as I continued to lie there in the same position. The concept of leaving my bed seemed so foreign to me that, even when the light morphed from pink to yellow, and the autumn sun tried its best to convince me through the space it was provided, I made no moves to get out of bed.

"Hey, rise and shine!" came Ian's voice as he knocked on my door, opening it and merely standing in the doorway. "Murph?"

I found myself automatically opening my mouth to speak, but no sound came out. It was as if my brain just switched off my voice command system, thus rendering me speechless.

"Murph?" Ian asked, sitting on the bed and touching my shoulder. "It's close to noon. What are you doing still in bed?"

I didn't move to answer him; I didn't even move.

"Murph, this isn't funny. If you're playing a game here, please, don't."

I found myself scooting away from him then, his hand falling off my shoulder and onto the bed behind me.

"Murph, really," Ian said, getting up and circling around to face me, and I avoided his eyes. "I can see that's something's up. What's wrong?"

"I don't want to talk," I replied, and was shocked that my voice was devoid of any emotion whatsoever, something very odd.

"What?" he asked, his voice sounding nervous. "Murph, you don't mean that."

"I do. Just... You can go," I said, staring at a portion of the cheap carpet which littered the floor of my bedroom.

"Fine. If that's what you want," Ian replied, sounding reluctant as he moved around my bed and walked out of my room, shutting the door behind him. From the other side, I heard him sigh heavily, and then I heard Trevor's voice.

"What's up?" he asked.

"I..." He hesitated then. "I need to call Fiona."

"Why? Everything okay?"

"No," Ian replied, and I heard their footsteps receding in the other direction, as Trevor continued to pepper him with questions.

I remained lying there for god knows how long, until my bedroom door opened sometime later, and I still hadn't moved. I knew it was Fiona by the way the steps sounded, and the scent of the perfume she wore wafted into my ears as she stepped closer. She perched beside me on the bed and leaned over, trying and failing to catch my eye.

"Hey, Murph. What's up?"

I didn't reply.

"Ian's concerned that you randomly stopped texting him last night, after telling him what Lip was doing here," she said softly. "And he says you haven't gotten up yet. He mentioned you've been sleeping until nine during your time off from work, but it's close to three o'clock now, Murph. Is something going on?"

"No."

"Well, at least you're talking to me," she said quietly. "Are you okay?"

"Fine."

"Okay," she said. "You're not sad?"

I shrugged, which felt odd, due to my lack of movement. "I don't feel anything."

"Not anything?" Fiona asked.

"No."

"Okay," she replied, and I could sense her voice breaking, and yet, I didn't move to see if I could comfort her in any way. "I'll just... Go and leave you to it," she said, managing to get the rest of her sentence out as she left my bedroom. "Ian, it's not good," Fiona said quietly.

"I thought it was..." He began.

"I'm not a doctor, but it might be," she replied, her voice nervous. "You know how Monica could get when she was in one of her moods."

"Fuck," Ian whispered. "What do we do?"

"Monitor her for a couple days, see what happens," she replied. "Thanksgiving is in a couple of days, so maybe she'll come around..."

"I don't want her going to one of those places," Ian whispered. "I never wanted to speak to you again after I went, initially..."

Fiona sighed. "Ian, we might have to," she replied. "If she keeps acting like this, bringing her in for a diagnosis won't hurt."

"She has fucking depression, Fiona," Ian whispered. "She's not fucking bi-polar—"

"You're not a doctor, Ian," Fiona ruled. "Besides, this thing with Frank could've pushed her over the edge. And she's pregnant. If she doesn't get up and move and eat, it could harm the baby, and I know you don't want that to happen," she said, insinuation behind her tone.

Ian hesitated for a moment. "She told you?"

"Yes, she told me, because I'm her sister. But I'm your sister too, Ian, and I know what's right and wrong here. Right now, just make sure she doesn't do anything reckless..."

"Like what?"

"Like run away, like you did," she replied. "We almost lost you too many times, Ian, and we can't lose Murphy. We can't."

"No, we fucking can't," Ian said quietly. "We just got her back..."

"So keep an eye on her, and make sure she's okay," Fiona told him, her voice firm. "I know she wants this baby as much as you do, even though you try to hide it and keep your distance. I know you want a link to him, a physical link, so don't try to deny it."

"One thing at a time, Fiona."

"I understand," she replied. "Just make sure she's okay, huh?"

"I will," Ian told her.

. . .

"Murph, you can't just stay in bed," Ian said, his voice firm, on Thanksgiving, my first one with my new family. "What's wrong?" he asked, his voice pleading.

I turned and looked at him then, the first time I'd done so in days, and found that I felt tears coming down my face, but my emotions didn't match up. "Nothing," I replied, in that same tone of voice, and wondered what I could do to help my mind with cooperating. "Absolutely nothing is wrong, Ian. Why would anything be wrong?"

Ian looked hesitant for a moment before he sat down next to me on the bed, and I automatically rose up, too, and moved as far away from him as possible. "Murphy, don't," he said, getting back up and walking around to the other side of the bed, and grabbing me then, holding me against him and not letting go. "I need you to understand that you're not alone in this—please understand me, Murph. Don't shut me out, please..."

I felt ridged in his arms, like I was either unable or uncaring to get him off me in a physical manner; it was as if I couldn't move in terms of other people, and could barely move myself as it was, due to my stiffness, and my brain not working right. "Nothing's wrong with me," I whispered to him, although I could not get out of the eerie calm that passed through my lips as Ian pulled me back to stare at me. "Nothing is wrong..."

Ian looked more scared than ever then, not knowing what to do with me. "If nothing's wrong, then why are you crying?" he asked, his voice shaking.

I shook my head. "I'm not crying," I replied automatically, despite the fact that I felt the tears rolling down my face. "I'm not crying. You're overreacting."

"Murphy," Ian said with exasperation, shaking my gently. "Come on—I know the real you is in there, and I want to talk to the real you. Where is she?"

"This is the real me," I reply, hanging like a rag doll in Ian's grip. "This is all me, all the time. I can't tell you anything else."

"Murph, we all love you, and we're all worried about you," Ian said desperately. "Can't you see that? Can't you see that we're concerned?"

"You have no reason to be concerned. I'm fine," I said again, my brain still ignoring the fact that I had tears running down my face.

"Murphy," Ian whispered and, somehow, I was able to push through the boundary within my mind for a moment, and my eyes suddenly focused.

I felt as if I could see color again as I looked around. I felt my heart beating erratically then as I felt my breaths come in short gasps. "I'm trapped," I whispered then, and Ian looked at me then, as if he was shocked by my sudden change in demeanor.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"My mind... It won't let me talk to you," I whispered, shaking all over. "I want to talk, I want to tell you, but it won't let me," I said desperately. "I'm so scared, Ian... I'm so scared. I think it's my depression," I whispered, shaking all over. "Dr. Fairfax said I should go off my medication for the sake of the baby... Even when I feel the symptoms start to flare up, the medication stays in my system long enough to ward off any attacks..."

"You went off your meds because your fucking doctor told you to?!"

I nodded, feeling the tears coming more quickly now. "I'm sorry," I replied. "I'll only have a few moments of lucidity, Ian. I need to get admitted, because, if I don't do it voluntarily, they'll make me stay. I don't want to be there," I whispered, throwing myself at Ian then and sobbing in his arms, shaking like a leaf.

"Did something happen to you in one of those places?"

I nodded. "Dr. Normal convinced mental hospitals to admit me, especially after he gave me a particularly bad beating," I whispered. "He had them convinced I was throw myself off of things, and because he was such a good doctor and respected citizen, they believed him." I felt comfort in Ian's arms then, yet still unknowing as to how long my clarity would last. "Dr. Normal authorized the doctors there to do whatever treatment they saw fit—he even favored primitive methods of treatment. The doctor's favorite was torture."

"What would they do?" Ian whispered.

I shuddered. "Lock me in a dark room for a week, with just water. By the time that's over, you're begging to be let out, and will do anything to do it."

"Did they rape you?" he asked.

I shook my head. "No. No, not until Dr. Normal told them that I'd been sexually active with Jessica, but even then, they didn't go that far. They did other things, of course, but they never went...you know...inside..."

"Shit," Ian whispered as I moved my head onto his shoulder. "You endured so many years of hell on earth, Murph. How'd you survive?"

"By thinking of you guys," I said, lifting my head and smiling at him. "I guess, well, I thought that my biological family wouldn't stand for that kind of treatment. I imagined you all in plenty of different ways, and although I'd never felt physically whole—or something relating to that—until I met you, Ian, I never assumed I'd have a twin..."

"Did you ever imagine a lot of siblings?"

"I only ever imagined the siblings," I confessed, "never the parents. I knew that, no matter who you were, you wouldn't have just let your sister be carried out of the family without a word. I mean, hey, you were three months old, and Lip was two, and Fiona was four, but come on, you all had brains..."

Ian sighed. "I think we should send you to the hospital where I went," he said quietly. "I hated it at the time, and resented the hell out of Fiona and everyone who was involved in taking me there, but you should go."

I shuddered. "How long?"

"If you can find a medication that works for you, and seem to be getting better, they could release you in a week, provided that where you go is considered safe."

I sighed. "Look, Ian, I don't expect you just to wait around for me to get out," I said quietly, and he locked his eyes with mine. "You've got Trevor and Liam to think about—it's not just your twin sister that wandered in off the street three months ago. You've got a bunch of other family members to think about—"

"And we're all going to rally around you, Murph," Ian said firmly. "We're not just going to abandon you in this crisis. You need us, Murph, just like we need you. I know it's scary to think about, but we are not, or ever, going anywhere."

I sighed, feeling more tears spilling from my eyes again. "Promise?"

Ian pulled me back into his arms. "We are not going anywhere, Murphy. Bet on it, because you'd win every time."

. . .

I was admitted to the mental institution the following day, when I had returned to my zombie-like state, although Ian had already downloaded a form online, which meant that I'd consented to being admitted already. Ian and Fiona went with me, each hugging me goodbye before I walked through the doors, an attendant just next to me, likely to make sure I didn't do anything stupid on my first night in this place. Turning around and looking back through the door, I saw Ian and Fiona standing there, waiting for me to walk around the corner before they left the place, which was bittersweet in its own way.

"Let's discuss your previous medical history, Murphy," the intake doctor said patiently to me, once we had reached her office. "Hey," she said, catching my nervous eye for a moment and leaning closer to me, to which I found myself drawing back automatically. "I know this can be scary, Murphy," she went on, moving a good distance away, "but you've got to at least have a positive outlook on this. Know that we'll do everything in our power to help you work through whatever you've got going on up there."

"High depression, high anxiety, and paranoia," I replied, and the doctor raised her eyebrows at my monotone. "My mind doesn't always let me do the talking. I'll say I'm fine, and I'll be sobbing like there's no tomorrow. My brother even told me about my crying yesterday, and I said I was fine..." I felt the other voice take over then. "...because I was fine. There was nothing wrong with me."

"I see you have a history of bipolar disorder on your mother's side, and that your twin brother is also affected with the illness?"

"Yes," I said. "Of course, given that and alcoholism on my father's side, there's no fucking way I'd be destined to come out normal..."

"You were adopted at three months, is that correct?"

"Yes."

"Moved to Seattle and lived there until...July of this year?"

"Yes."

"Why the move?"

"I'm an associate attorney with Blomqvist and Torrance," I replied. "It was just a coincidence that my biological family was from here. I only found out I was adopted in June, and I had no idea how to go about finding them..."

"Was your adoption successful?"

"No. My adoptive father, Martin, walked out when I was five—he's a rock musician who travels the globe. My adoptive mother, Tina, got remarried and had three sons with my adoptive stepfather, Norman, who I called Dr. Normal."

"Their sons were biological?"

"Yes. Tina was told she couldn't have children naturally. Once she did, however, I believe she allowed her resentment to cloud her vision as to what was really going on..."

"And what was really going on, Murphy?"

"Dr. Normal was beating me," I replied. "It started when I was six, and it was always for minor and childish infractions. No matter what I did—getting good grades, staying quiet, never asking for anything—it didn't work."

"Were your brothers treated differently?"

I shrugged. "They got physical affection, and trips around the world," I replied. "But other than that, it was the same. I got a phone at thirteen, a computer at fourteen, a car at sixteen, my own private dorm room in college at eighteen. I never went without material things—my clothes were always fashionable and always fit..."

"But the boys weren't beaten?"

"No. If they did something wrong, they lost video game privileges for a week or something, and whatever they did..." I shrugged. "Just treated better..."

"Do you ever feel lost?"

"I used to," I replied. "For years I felt lost. Until I found Ian," I said, and found that, for the first time in a long time, I was smiling. "When I found Ian, things were different..."

"Did you expect that you were twins?"

"No," I replied, "of course not, although we were shocked by the physical and emotional similarities between us..."

"Did anyone think that you were related?"

"Fiona did," I replied. "She immediately thought I was a sibling of theirs, from the moment I was introduced to her."

"It says here in your medical history that you were concerned that your older brother, Lip, could be the biological father of your baby?"

I nodded. "Yes. Lip and I were a couple before I found out about our familial relationship. We slept together the night before I got the paperwork."

"And after you got the paperwork?"

"I ran off to Mexico," I replied. "I just... I didn't want to be around anyone, and I knew Mexico was a place where I wouldn't know anyone. I wanted to get out of my head for a while..."

"What did you do in Mexico?"

"Went to a roadside tequila bar, where I got way too drunk and ended up screwing Ian's ex-boyfriend," I replied.

"And he's the one who got you pregnant?"

"Yes," I replied, "as he was the only other possibility. Before I knew I was pregnant, I was sleeping with my boss's son, but he and I used protection..."

The doctor nodded. "I see. Well, you've definitely engaged in some reckless behavior since you've come to Chicago, Murphy, but I think your inhibitions have been stripped raw to almost nothing, unfortunately. As a result, I want you to begin a pregnancy-safe antidepressant, and we'll go from there."

I nodded. "Okay," I replied.

"You're willing to go through with the treatment?"

I nodded again. "Yes."

"You'll be permitted to see any members of your family you like during visiting hours," she replied with ease, getting to your feet. "Oh, and an Allie Torrance called earlier..."

"She's my boss," I replied.

"Well, she heard about you being admitted, and sprung a private room for you," she replied with a smile. "We don't usually give them out to just anyone, but we feel it is appropriate, considering your pregnancy."

I nodded, getting to my feet. "Thank you, Dr. Greene," I replied.

Dr. Greene nodded. "You're welcome, Murphy. I'll give you a quick tour of our facility, and then you can rest before dinner. Is that all right?"

I nodded again, knowing that I had to agree to everything. "Yes," I replied. "That sounds fine, thank you, doctor."

"Very good," she said, picking up my clipboard and walking to her office door, which she opened and stepped into the hallway. "Let's go, then."

. . .

I was responding well to the treatment, and, in the days that followed, both Ian and Fiona came to see me in the hospital. I stipulated that I would only be released to either of their custodies, as I was living with Ian, and the hospital seemed to understand. Even though the zombie state of mind didn't leave me entirely, the doctors proclaimed that I was progressing in the treatment phase of things and that I was due to be released on time.

On my seventh day in the hospital, I was on my way to breakfast as per usual when Dr. Greene found me in the hallway. "Good morning, Dr. Greene," I said.

"No breakfast this morning, Murphy."

I blinked, wondering what was going on. "Oh. Okay. Do I have to have a blood test or something?" I asked.

She shook her head. "No. Ian is here to get you."

"Ian?" I asked, and my voice rose to a higher octave when I thought of him. "What do you mean he's here to get me?"

"You're going home today, Murphy. You've responded excellently to the treatment, and you're taking your medication on time. You can go home."

I smiled. "Thank you," I replied. I was given permission to return to my room, where I gathered up my things in the bag I'd hastily brought, and found that the clothes I'd come in had been laundered and placed into the locker-like wardrobe. I changed into them and out of the jumpsuit and found that they were just a bit tighter on me, as I'd been instructed to gain a little weight for the pregnancy.

I stepped out of my room, holding my bag, and went to the visiting area, where I saw Ian through the door. I pushed it open, and Ian immediately got to his feet. I felt the smile forming on my face then as I dropped my bag, rushing towards him and welcoming the hug. I ignored the slight look of apprehension in his eyes at this display of affection, and was pleased when he hugged me back. We walked back towards the door, where he picked up my bag and walked towards the main entrance with me, where we both signed the log, saying that I was leaving for good and Ian had just been a visitor.

"What was it like in there?" Ian asked as we stepped outside, the cool, late November air filling my lungs as we drifted through the parking lot. He fished my car keys out of his pocket, popping the trunk as we neared the car, and placed my duffel into it before slamming it shut. "Of course, if you don't want to talk about it..."

I shook my head, cutting him off as he unlocked the car, and I climbed inside. It was all a bit cumbersome, as, in the autumn season stretched on, so had my stomach. I was officially showing in my pregnancy now, and the small bump was perfectly rounded and enjoyed settling in the direct center of my stomach. "Dr. Greene says that it's good to discuss it," I said quietly as Ian climbed into my car, and into the driver's seat. I reached down and held my stomach in a brief yet caring manner then, finding comfort in the child that had been my salvation on the inside. "I mean, I can actually talk again..."

"When you couldn't before?" Ian asked, adjusting the mirrors before sticking the key into the ignition and pulling out of the parking space.

I nodded. "Yeah. It's kind of hard to explain," I said quietly as we drove through and ultimately out of the parking lot. "It's not that I didn't want to talk to you, Ian. I always want to talk to you, and I always should talk to you, I know that. I guess my brain just wanted to switch off the direct command system, you know?"

Ian nodded. "I know."

I sighed, lowering my eyes to my stomach again, forcing myself not to cry at the notion that our relationship could potentially be changed forever. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

I sighed again. "I heard you and Fiona talking before you sent me there," I said quietly as we reached the opposite side of downtown, and went through it towards home. "I know the fact that I decided to keep the baby hurts you."

Ian shook his head. "Don't be ridiculous, Murphy."

I raised my eyes to his profile then, and I saw him attempting to keep it together. "You know, this would go a whole lot easier if we promised not to lie to each other."

Ian tightened his grip upon my steering wheel. "You're right."

"I know my reckless decision-making is unacceptable, and I need to work on my impulse control a whole hell of a lot," I said, my voice low. "The fact that I would just allow myself to run away and go off the rails like that was just awful, and I'm sorry. Although you guys didn't know for sure if I was one of you yet, you all suspected something was at work here. I should've just come to you and said something, and just ripped the band-aid off. Then none of us would be in this mess," I said quietly.

Ian sighed. "I'm not going to lie when I say it's not going to be difficult," he said quietly, and I felt the pain fighting to make it through to his words. "I mean, I'm going to be looking at a child who is equal parts people I love—half you, half my ex-boyfriend. With you, Murphy, the love was just automatic, but it grew so much in so short a time that I can't remember lots of instances before you entered my life. And with Mickey..."

"It's complicated?" I guess.

He nodded. "Yeah. Like I told him the last time I saw him, and like I told you when you wanted to give me his message that first time, I have a fucking boyfriend. Trevor's great—it's not complicated with him in that he's a law-abiding citizen. But with Mickey..."

"It's hard, because he just couldn't escape his roots," I said quietly.

"Yeah. And I guess we never forget our first loves..."

I nodded. "Yeah. At least we can bond over the fact that both our first loves were fostered within the conflicts of our lives, and it was an us versus them situation..."

"Lip?" Ian asked.

I shook my head. "No. No, I did a lot of talking in therapy when I was in there... They convinced me that I really did love Jessica. I don't know if this makes me bi-sexual or anything like that, I don't know... But I do know that I loved her, and that's a little piece of me that I'm going to hold onto forever. And it's a good thing, to gain a deeper understanding of oneself," I said quietly as we drove through the streets closer to home.

"They can make you understand things on a deeper level, for sure."

"I can't lose my family again..." I whispered.

"Murph?" Ian asked.

I turned to look at Ian then, and forced myself to keep the emotions in check, even though tears were fighting to escape my eyes. "I'm serious, Ian."

"What are you serious about?"

I lowered my eyes then, not knowing how else to say it, but knowing that if I didn't say it now, the moment would be gone, and I knew I had to consider everyone at play here. It wasn't just me anymore, and although I'd relied on myself for so long, I couldn't do that, not anymore. "If you want me to give the baby up for adoption," I said, catching Ian's shocked expression at my unexpected words, "then I will."


	5. In Too Deep

Chapter Five: In Too Deep

I remembered the days that lead up to my hospitalization, and recalled how dark they all truly were as time went on. It was after I'd heard the conversation with Ian and Fiona, and before my final heart-to-heart with Ian that my twin had asked Trevor to sit with me. Trevor seemed all for lending a sympathetic ear, and now that we truly seemed on the same page, he seemed all too prepared to spend some time with me. I just lay on the bed mostly, staring at the ceiling, and giving noises or one-worded responses to his questions or thoughts.

"Why do you think you're like this?" he asked.

I shrugged. "Can't say."

"Hey, that's more than one word—guess this is improving," he said.

"Eh," I replied.

"Okay...back to the one-word response. It's okay—we can still work with that," he went on, not one to give up so easily. "Come on, Murphy. I know this isn't just something you can scream, 'Snap out of it!' at, but, come on. Know that we're here to support you."

"Ian's worried about the baby," I say, my mind screaming at myself for saying so. It had been an unspoken discussion between Ian and I not to reveal the circumstances of my becoming pregnant. Of course, Trevor knew the abridged version, and that, we'd somehow agreed, was where it should remain.

"Well, sure, since this is how you've been acting," Trevor replied. "Fuck, even I'm worried about the baby..."

I found my hands moving instinctively to my stomach. "Fiona says that she knows how Ian feels about the baby, and that he wants me to have it..."

"Well, Ian knows how much being a mother means to you," Trevor said. "He's being supportive, of course, because he's your brother."

I sighed, not taking my hands off my midriff. "Fiona knows I wanted a biological link to myself for as long as I can remember, but I think I chose the wrong person to sleep with..."

"You mean generally?" Trevor asked, and I looked over at him, my eyes not quite focusing upon him, although I could clearly make out his outline. "Look, I know you know I know about Lip, but that wasn't your fault, Murph. It wasn't."

I shrugged. "Not Lip."

"Your boss's son?"

"No, I mean the baby's father," I replied. "I made a mistake," I went on, the tears coming out of my eyes before I could stop them, although my voice remained emotionless. "I take one too many drinks and—boom!—I'm pregnant a few weeks later..."

"You said you went down to Mexico after realizing that Lip was your brother, and all the Gallagher's your biological family..." Trevor said.

"Yeah," I said softly. "And landed into a big bath of mistake..."

Trevor gave a stiff nod. "Was... Was he a stranger? The baby's father?"

I sighed. "I hadn't met him face-to-face, but he wasn't a stranger...not to me."

"Who's the father, Murphy?" Trevor asked, and I could tell by the tone of his voice that there was no room for a wrong answer.

I found his face in the room again, knowing that I appeared as dead-eyed and as emotionless as they came. "I think you already know the answer to that, Trevor."

"Jesus Christ, you've fucking done it now—how's Ian supposed to cope with all this, or didn't you even consider him?" Trevor whispered, dragging his hands through his hair before getting to his feet and walking towards the door. He hesitates for a moment before turning around on the threshold and just staring at me for a moment. "Why the fuck do you have to run out and just ruin every goddamn thing in this life, Murphy?!" he whispers before leaving my room and slamming the door behind him.

. . .

"Who else would like to share?" Dr. Greene asked as we all sat there, on my third day in the hospital, waiting for someone else to break to ice upon themselves. "Why don't you say something, Murphy?" she asked then, leaning forward and looking at me. "You've hardly said anything these last couple of days. Why don't you share something?"

I shrugged. "I wouldn't know what to say."

"Anything is fine," she replied. "How you're feeling, to what you do in your personal life, to your hobbies. Anything is acceptable here, Murphy. It's a safe space."

I sighed. "Okay," I replied. "Well, I moved here in July from Seattle, where I was raised. I was born here in South Side, but I was adopted when I was three months old..."

"That's a wonderful start, Murphy. You don't need to be shy," Dr. Greene said gently. "You can keep going, if you like."

"My adoptive mother was neglectful as time went on, and my adoptive father walked out when I was five," I continued, lowering my eyes. "She met someone else, my adoptive stepfather, shortly after the divorce, and then they got married. They had three sons in quick succession, and I was forgotten about..."

"Do you think you have abandonment issues, Murphy?"

"Who the fuck doesn't?!" I fired back, meeting Dr. Greene's gaze in a moment of pure defiance, not wanting to be vulnerable with her, or anyone.

Dr. Greene leaned forward. "Murphy, I know you're hurting right now, but part of our code of conduct is respect towards employees," she replied. "I know you didn't truly mean anything by your remark just now, and I'll give you some leeway, but remember to keep your behavior in check, all right?"

I nodded.

"Okay, then," she said quietly, sitting back in her chair. "You can continue, if you wish, or you can pass the torch."

I sighed. "I don't know why I'm here..."

"Your biological family, who you just linked up with, has a history of mental illness, do they not?" she asked.

I nodded. "Yeah. My biological mother was bipolar, and my twin brother is bipolar. I was diagnosed with depression, anxiety, and paranoia when I was an adolescent, so I didn't escape it entirely, unfortunately..."

"What do you think was the catalyst for all this?" Dr. Greene asked.

I found I'd kept in the same position—leaning back against the chair, as far away from others as possible, with my arms crossed, which a lot of us deemed to be an effective barrier. "What do you mean?" I asked.

"What do you think caused your downward spiral?"

I sighed. "My biological father attacked me," I replied. "I provoked him into it, mostly, but it was after he grabbed me and looked like he was going to do it..." I shrugged.

"What happened?"

I turned at the voice; it came from a woman of Asian descent, who sat a few people away from me, her dark eyes wide with fear. "When he attacked me?"

She nodded. "Yes."

I sighed. "He broke my jaw," I replied, opening my mouth slightly to reveal the gears and wires holding it in place. "That's why I sound like this," I said, motioning around my throat, almost as if I was attempting to excuse the low quality of my voice. "The impact of his fist caused me to fall backwards, and I hit my head. I had a minor head wound, but it caused me to black out... I woke up in the hospital," I said, hunching my shoulders, feeling vulnerable, but not wanting to show it in an outward way.

"Have you ever woken up in the hospital before?" Dr. Greene asked.

I shook my head. "No. Dr. Normal was always careful."

"Who's Dr. Normal?"

I felt myself hunching inwards then, bringing my knees up against my chest, as my tears finally blinded my vision. "My adopted stepfather," I replied.

. . .

"Murphy, you can't be serious."

My mind suddenly flashed back to the present, with Ian driving the two of us home. "I'm being totally and completely serious right now, Ian," I replied, my voice steady as I stared out through the windshield as we drove past The Alibi Room, just a few streets away from the house. "I don't want you to resent me, or this baby..."

Ian sighed, remaining silent until we reached our street, whereupon he pulled into my customary spot, close to the gate. He turned towards me then and, gently, reached out and moved me so that I was looking at him. "Murph, we've been over this," he told me firmly. "I'm not going to resent either of you."

I sighed. "When I was in my dark period last week..."

"Yeah?"

I shook my head, moving down to grab my bag as I shoved open the passenger door of my car. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Murph?" Ian said, getting out of my car and slamming his own door before running after me. "I need to know if something's bothering you..."

I turned and looked at him then, biting my lip to prevent the tears from falling. "No, Ian. I won't say it. I don't want..."

"What don't you want, Murph?" he asked, placing his hands on my shoulders. "You're my sister—my fucking twin. You can tell me anything."

I shake my head. "Not this. I can't tell you this..."

"Murph, did something happen in the hospital?"

I shook my head again. "It's got nothing to do with the goddamn hospital, Ian. Can you just forget it and give it a rest?!"

"No, because clearly something's bothering you," he said, obviously growing desperate. "I want you to be okay, Murph. I know the people on the inside were stressing communication and emotions and feelings. Tell me what you're feeling, Murph. Please."

"Why?" I demanded, pulling away from him as my tears began to spill again. "So that you'll make your boyfriend sit with me to interrogate me, and then he'll fucking accuse me of not considering you and ruining everything?!" I cried out, suddenly realizing that I'd said it, and saw Ian's shocked expression before I put my head into my hands. "Fuck," I whispered.

"Trevor said this?" Ian said, obviously attempting to contain his temper.

I gave a stiff nod. "Yes."

"Shit," Ian whispered.

I looked up, staring at him through my veil of tears. "It was my fault," I whispered. "My brain wasn't functioning correctly. If anything, I'm to blame for this, Ian. I'm the fucking catalyst that fucked everything up..."

"Your fault? How the fuck could it be your fault?"

I shook my head before I walked past him, grabbing my keys and making my way back to my car with a heavy heart. "It doesn't matter, does it? I fucking wreck things, Ian. I shouldn't have told you who I was—I should've just stayed disappeared..."

Ian caught up to me quickly then, grabbing me by the arm. "Stop it, Murphy. Just tell me what happened, please."

"He figured out that Mickey was the father," I whispered brokenly.

"Did you tell him?"

"No," I replied, and shut my eyes, hating myself for automatically lying to Ian and knowing that I had to come clean. "Yes. Indirectly."

Ian sighed. "You don't ruin everything, Murphy."

I turned around, looking up at him and shrugging my shoulders. "I ruin some shit, then, Ian. I mean, if I hadn't come here..."

"If you hadn't come here, then the Gallagher family wouldn't be complete," Ian told me in a firm voice, placing his hands on my shoulders. "And besides, you're only human. Given our family history, it's unexpected that you should be in control all the time."

I sighed, placing my forehead against his shoulder. "I'm sorry," I whispered. "I shouldn't have said anything to Trevor..."

Ian pulled me in for a hug. "You weren't in control," he told me softly. "You were suffering from a breakdown, Murph. We can't expect you to be perfect then."

"I'm hardly perfect, Ian," I said, pulling back with a smirk. "When I found out who you all were—who I was—I ran across the boarder and slept with a stranger, your first love." I shook my head, and inadvertently placed a hand upon my stomach. "No matter how much I love this baby, Ian, I think it would be better not to get attached..."

"What are you saying?"

I sighed. "I'm saying that the baby should have the best of everything life has to offer—and that includes the best mother—and maybe that person isn't me."

"That person _is_ you," Ian said firmly. "I know it's frightening, but hey, you never knew what you were getting into when you moved here, or searched for all of us. You handled both of those in your stride, Murphy, and I know you can handle the baby, too."

"But it could hurt you," I said, my tone bordering on desperate. "I don't want to hurt you, Ian—not like this, not again."

Ian shook his head. "I was in shock," he replied, his hands returning to my shoulders to steady me, "when you told me, I was in shock. But, after I realized that half of this baby was going to be you, it didn't matter who the father was."

"Ian..."

He smiled. "All that matters is that it's a happy baby," he told me gently. "And it will be happy, because it's a Gallagher."

I smiled back at him. "You really mean that?"

"I do," he replied. "This baby is half you, half Mickey, but just because it's got Mickey's DNA, it doesn't mean that it's going to be like him."

I laughed. "Mickey and I are equally fucked up, Ian."

"That may be so, but you're fucked up in two totally different ways—we all are," Ian informed me in a patient manner. "The fact remains that it's unlikely that Mickey's just going to show up and come knocking on either on of our doors, Murphy. We just gotta know that."

"I don't want him knocking on my door, Ian—not for me," I said quietly. "If his name gets cleared and he wants to see the baby, that's a different story."

"But until then?"

"Until then, I hope he gets his shit together," I replied. "Because, the fact remains that you're not completely over him."

Ian pulls a face and looks away. "Let's not talk about that, Murph."

I sighed, wanting to remind him about the importance of communication, but also knew that boundaries existed for a reason. "If that's what you want," I reply.

Ian sighs, reaching down and picking up my bag. "Come on," he says, putting an arm around my shoulders and leading me back through the gate. "I'm surprised that nobody's come outside to greet us..."

"What?" I asked.

Ian grinned, opening the front door and stepping inside, where I saw Fiona, Debbie, Franny, Liam, and Lip all gathered in the living room. Ian smirked down at me and I gently elbowed him in the ribs before he released me and gently shoved me forward and into the fray. He watched for a moment, as I was led from hug to hug—some more awkward than others—as he placed my duffel bag on the stairs.

"You okay?" Fiona asked, holding me the longest out of all my siblings.

I nodded, feeling secure for a moment before pulling back. The house was warm inside that day, and when I moved to take off my jacket, each one of my siblings—save for Ian—drew back dramatically at my appearance. "What?" I asked, playing dumb.

"You _popped_!" Fiona cried out, grinning at me. "I just came to see you a few days ago... What the hell happened?!"

I laughed then, placing a protective hand on my expanding stomach. "You know how pregnancy works," I said, shaking my head. "The belly tends to expand, as I'm sure Debbie remembers," I say, grinning at my younger sister.

Debbie rolls her eyes. "How come you still look good pregnant?"

I shrug my shoulders, ignoring Lip then, who is coughing loudly then and has permitted his face to turn red to his ears. "No idea. Fucked up genes, probably. I think there's a rule that says only one daughter in a family can look good pregnant..."

"Hey!" Debbie cries out, shoving my arm.

"Of course, I'll never really know," I say quietly. "I should've been here, when you had Franny, and I'm sorry I couldn't be, Debs."

Debbie shook her head. "Not your fault, Murph. I know that."

"What did the doctors all say?" Fiona asked.

I sighed. "They said that I was responding to the treatment—which is good, because I'm feeling more like me," I said with a smile, a smile that I meant.

Fiona nodded. "You look like you again, Murph. We..." Her voice broke then as she dashed the tears from her dark brown eyes. "...we thought we'd lost you there for a minute."

I shook my head then, pulling her back into my arms. "I'm not going anywhere, Fiona. I ran away physically once, and emotionally once, and it's not going to happen again. This baby and I are not going anywhere."

Fiona breathed a sigh of relief then as I moved to let her go. "Promise?"

I nodded. "I promise. Dr. Greene explained that everyone needs to get out of their heads for a while, but explained ways that are safe to do it. Which means, conceivably, I can go wherever I want, provided that I let you know what's going on."

Fiona nodded. "That's right, because that's what families do, Murph—we communicate with each other, to the point where it gets annoying. If it's a choice between you annoying us and avoiding telling us what's going on, please annoy us."

"We're here to help," Debbie said, moving Franny from one hip to the other. "Really, Murph—day or night."

"I'll help!" Liam said, and I reached down and cupped his cheek.

"Any way we can, if you want," Lip said from where he was, in between Fiona and Debbie. "We can handle it."

"We can all handle it," Ian said, coming up behind me and placing his arm back around my shoulders in a gesture of comfort.

I leaned back into the gesture. "I can't tell you how good this all feels..."

"What? Being out of the psych ward?" Ian joked.

I found myself laughing back at that. "Well, yeah, admittedly," I said, giving him a look at what would normally be considered insensitive. "But, mostly, being surrounded by family, in our own home." I shrugged. "I don't know. Guess I never thought I'd have any of this..."

"No one ever does," Lip puts in, and I find my eyes locking with his, and Ian's sudden grip on my shoulder to keep my in check takes me back to reality.

. . .

I was pleased that the firm was willing to take me back part-time on the first of December on a trial basis, which I was not upset about. I found that re-adjusting to antidepressants, as well as my pregnancy, were more exhausting than I ever thought, and so half-days proved much better for me on the whole. I would arrive at ten-thirty and stay until three, whereupon I would pick Liam up from school and, on alternating days, head to the market to shop for dinner.

"I never got a chance to thank you," I said, when I finally got some one-on-one time with Allie in the middle of my first week back. "For getting me the solo room at the hospital. You didn't need to do that."

She smiled. "When Ian called and gave us the abridged version, Hugo and I knew that we had to help one of our best employees."

I sighed. "If there's any work you need me to make up..."

Allie held up her hand. "Once the treatment starts to work in its entirety, then we'll see about you taking on more work," she said gently.

I smiled. "Very well, then."

"We were so sorry to hear about what happened with your father," Allie said gently. "How's your healing going?"

I shrugged. "Can't complain. I got the wires taken out of my jaw on the night I was admitted to the hospital," I say with a slight smirk.

"When are the elastics due to come out?"

"Another three weeks, unfortunately. I can't tell you how many smoothies I have to drink a week to stay on top of projected weight gain for the pregnancy."

"I'm sure," Allie said, her eyes lowering automatically to my stomach. "And I also see, in your absence, that you've popped."

I laughed then and nodded. "Yeah—my sister said the same thing after I got home," I said, "and Rachel and Cindy were all over me as soon as I got to the office."

"Are you experiencing anything along the typical symptoms?" Allie asked. "Swelling, joint or muscle pain, cravings, mood swings?"

I laughed again. "Plenty," I replied. "The mood swings can get back, especially because I live with my brothers. But Ian's understanding—the whole twin thing. And he helps keep Liam out of the fray..."

"I'll bet you're getting excited," she put in.

I smiled, automatically stroking my stomach and feeling borderline pathetic, but let those thoughts immediately die. "I am," I replied. "I guess when you're given something or an opportunity you never thought would happen for you..." I shrug. "You tend to think along the lines of happiness and excitement."

"Are you going to find out what the sex of the baby is?"

I nodded. "Yes. I'm scheduled to find out the day before the elastics come out."

Allie smiled. "Well, it's a wonderful experience, Murphy. I know you'll enjoy it."

. . .

I had just put a meatloaf in the oven that Friday night when there was an unexpected knock at the front door. I checked to make sure that Liam was still upstairs and immediately got out a baseball bat before making my way over. When I saw it was Trevor on the other side, I steeled myself for another negative interaction as I opened the door. We stood in silence for a moment, a layer of awkwardness passing between us due to our last interaction, but, as always, I wanted to be the person on top, so I broke the silence.

"Ian's working a double tonight," I said flatly to him, wondering if our friendship was truly over, given recent circumstances. "He won't be home until nine."

He nodded. "I know."

I sighed, hating the fact that I couldn't give him a perfectly exasperated expression, given the fact that my jaw was still slightly incapacitated. "Look, I don't know what you want here right now, Trevor, but your boyfriend isn't home."

He sighed. "Ian told me what I said to you, when you were...you know."

I gave a short nod then, lowering my eyes to my hands, which were still wrapped around a good portion of the wooden bat. "I'm sure he did."

"Why'd you have to tell him?"

I raised my eyes to his, giving him a look as if he'd answered that two plus two equaled five and attempted to ascertain the meaning behind his words. "Because he's my fucking brother, and he would've figured it out anyway," I reply.

"That's not an answer."

"Okay," I said, growing more annoyed. "Because I fucking covered for you the last time you said something insulting to me."

Trevor made a face. "You covered for me?"

"You're goddamn right I did," I reply, and he looked shocked at my ferocity. "I covered for you because, whether I like it or not, whether Ian likes it or not, you're good for him. You're a law-abiding citizen who doesn't fucking cheat on him, which were the main faults of his last two relationships. I went out on a fucking limb for you, Trevor, whether you knew it or not, so your comment—telling me that I ruin everything—when I was at my lowest point..." I sighed, the anger going out of me, when I realized that none of this was worth it. "It was so uncool, man," I said, shaking my head at him.

Trevor nodded. "I know that."

"Do you?" I asked. "Do you know that? Because I don't know what the fuck to believe anymore, to be honest with you..."

"Look, Murphy, I'll say it before and I'll say it again—I misjudged you."

I nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, you did. And I'm not proud of this," I say, my hand swooping onto my stomach again, a gesture not unnoticed by Trevor. "Yes, I was told I couldn't have children. Yes, I wanted children for as long as I can remember. Yes, I did something stupid with someone I shouldn't have. Yes, I immediately regretted it when my senses came back. And yes, I wish I wasn't pregnant with Mickey Milkovich's baby, but you couldn't have known, Trevor, you couldn't have known the agony I felt, in those days leading up to the DNA test, when I thought that my brother could've been the father..."

Trevor shook his head. "No, you're right."

"That's right—I am right," I said, my voice trembling. "In this one instance, I'm right. You're right in saying that I ruin things, but I don't ruin everything, Trevor. I don't."

He sighed. "You're right. That was out of line. I'm sorry."

"It was... It was out of line, Trevor," I said, my voice shaking then. "But this is something you need to work out with Ian."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying I'm not going to be a damn referee with you two," I replied. "I'm saying I'm done with this, done with all of it."

He sighed. "I guess I deserve that..."

"I'm forgiving you," I say, and he raises his eyes to mine.

"What?"

"I'm forgiving you—despite my better judgement, you're forgiven. It's going to take some time to heal completely, Trevor, but I'm forgiving you. Again."

Trevor sighed. "Thanks, but..."

"But what?"

His eyes met mine again. "It's not your forgiveness I need, Murphy. I'm grateful, really, but the only person who I need to ask forgiveness for is Ian."

I nodded. "I respect that."

"I really care about him, Murphy," he said.

I nodded again. "I know."

"Do you think he'll forgive me?" he asked.

I shrugged. "I'm sorry, Trevor. I can't answer that."

He sighed. "I understand... Well, I guess I'll go meet him at work—see if I can't work up an apology on the way."

"You sure?" I ask him. "You could wait here..."

"Nah," he said with a smile. "I'll head out. It's all good."

I nodded. "Okay," I said, smiling back. "See you soon, then."

"Fingers crossed," he said, grinning at me as he walked back out into the night.

I smiled, watching him go, shutting the door behind me.

I returned to the kitchen then, briefly checking the meatloaf before I began peeling potatoes and preparing them for dinner. After I got them in presentable order, I place them in a pot to boil and call Liam down to check over his homework. As I am waiting for him to come, checking the meatloaf and the progress of the potatoes, I find there is some jarring pain inside my abdomen, which comes in waves. Thinking it is just gas—or something equally unimportant—I decide to ignore it as Liam comes down, doing my best not to grimace and freak him out.

Once Liam's homework is checked over, I find that the potatoes are ready to be seasoned and mashed, and that the meatloaf is nearly ready to come out of the oven. The pain intensifies, slowly but surely, over time, and although I work hard to ignore it, it is becoming more and more difficult to do so. I sent Liam into the living room to watch T.V., not wanting him to see the state I am in. I take out the potato masher from the drawer, hoping that it will distract me from the pain that continues to rip through me, and yet it doesn't.

I move to take the meatloaf out of the oven, but my bending over to do so causes a cry to escape my lips and, when I look over my shoulder at Liam, I shake my head at him. "Everything's all right, sweetie," I tell him, plastering a smile on my face. I set the meatloaf on the stove, fumbling to get my phone out of my pocket, and calling Ian. "Please pick up," I whisper into his phone, my voice pleading. "Goddammit," I whisper to myself when I get his voicemail. Thinking quickly, I pull up Fiona's number, my fingers crossed, as I listen to the rings.

"Hey, Murphy!" she trills into the phone.

"Hey, Fi," I reply, feeling myself breaking out in a sweat, and my knees starting to tremble. "I need you..."

"Me? Couldn't get ahold of Ian?" she jokes.

"He's working a double tonight—guess he's busy," I say, gripping onto the side of the counter, afraid to look down. "I've been having these weird pains..."

"What pains?" Fiona asks, immediately at attention. "Is it the baby?"

I shrugged, swearing under my breath, as I remember that Fiona cannot see me. "Maybe, I don't know," I reply. "I have a law degree, Fi, not a medical one..."

"Okay, okay," Fiona said. "I'm on my way over now..."

"I'll call Lip to watch Liam," I say, trying hard to breathe. "Come soon," I whisper.

"I'm hurrying, Murph," she assures me.

"Thank you," I reply, cutting the call and calling Lip.

He answers on the second ring. "Hey, Murph. What's up?"

"Get here now!" I hiss into the phone, hoping that Liam is plenty focused on his cartoons to give a damn about me. "Please!"

"Murph?" he asks. "What's up?"

I feel myself breathing heavily of my own accord, trying to entertain the sense of normalcy, and failing dramatically. "There's something wrong with the baby, Lip..."

"Shit," he whispered into the phone. "Okay. I'm on my way."

"Fiona's coming to take me to the hospital, so you need to... Ow!" I scream then, and Liam looks over, and I manage a smile. "I'm fine," I mouth to him. "I need you to watch Liam while she takes me in..."

"Sure, anything," Lip replied. "Murph..."

"Yeah?"

"Everything's going to be fine," he assures me.

I nodded, despite the fact that he cannot see me. "I hope so," I whisper, lowering the phone and ending the call.

When the doorbell rings a few minutes later, I manage to shuffle over it, grimacing in pain the entire way, and Fiona bursts in before I can get there.

"Murph!" she cries out, looking me over. "Are you okay?" she demands, reaching out to me and inspecting me. "Your pants are black..."

I give her a funny look. "Yeah. So?"

"What if you're bleeding?" she whispered.

My eyes widen as I feel my face contorting into a look of horror then as Fiona shepherds me off to the bathroom. "Go inside and have a look," she says. "I'll be right out here."

I nodded, dashing the tears from my eyes as I move inside, and feel relieved when she shuts the door behind me. I unbutton my slacks, pulling them down, and find that I let out a scream when I see that my legs are caked in blood, and find that it is a miracle that I've somehow managed not to track it everywhere in the house.

"Fiona!" I scream.

Fiona shoves open the door then, her eyes widening in horror. "Okay," she whispers. She dives into her purse, getting me a pad, and holds up her hand. "I'll get you some clothes from upstairs," she tells me, running up there as I shove the door closed again.

"Murph!" comes a shout from the living room then. "Hey, Liam. Where's Murphy?"

"Bathroom," comes Liam's reply.

Lip charges up to the door then, banging on it. "Murph! Are you okay?"

"No," I say brokenly through the door.

Fiona comes running downstairs then, swears at Lip and shoves him out of the way before ducking back into the bathroom. "Give me those," she says, and I hand her my bloodied clothes before making quick work of changing. "Let's get you to the hospital," she says, pushing me out of the bathroom and throwing my clothes into the washing machine.

"Murph?" Lip asks as we walk towards the front door.

"We have to go," Fiona urges, putting on my coat and fishing my car keys out of my pocket. "I know this is scary, but we have to hurry..."

"Murph, everything's going to be okay..." Lip said.

I shook my head, stumbling towards the front door. "I'm not so sure," I whisper, following Fiona out into the night and getting into the passenger seat of my car.

Fiona takes the direct way to the hospital, somehow managing to dodge traffic, and still gets us there in one piece. When we arrive, she hauls me out of the car expertly, and pulls me in through the emergency entrance and right up to reception.

"Hi, my name is Fiona Gallagher," she says brusquely, obviously trying to keep her cool. "This is my little sister, Murphy Gallagher. Murphy is pregnant, and she's experiencing heavy bleeding and we need a doctor, okay?"

"Gallagher?" a nurse says from behind the receptionist as I feel faint then. "Interesting. We had an Ian Gallagher in here..."

"He's an EMT," Fiona said, sounding annoyed. "Makes sense."

"No, not as an EMT—as a patient," she said, giving Fiona an odd look.

"A patient?" I whisper, gripping my stomach and attempting to still hold myself upright. "Ian's our brother... He's...my twin..."

"The young man was in a terrible car accident just an hour ago. He's in surgery now, and we're hoping that he's going to be all right—head trauma, you know..."

"Fiona!" I scream then, and I feel something attempting to come out of me. "No, no, no..."

"Murphy, what's wrong?!" she demands, before looking around. "Can someone get my sister a fucking wheelchair?!" she demands as my knees weaken then. "Murphy!" she yells, trying to hold me up on her own as an orderly arrives, with a wheelchair for me. "Come on, stay with me," she says, her tone desperate as she gently smacks my face, as the wheelchair moves, and my eyes roll back into my head. "What the hell is wrong with her?!" she demands.

"Is your sister pregnant?" the orderly asks.

"Yes, she's about eighteen weeks..." Fiona replies.

"I'm sorry," the orderly says then, and I can somehow sense that we are in a hospital room then, as I am lifted up onto a bed then, and I feel the thing attempting to escape even faster now. "We are going to do everything we can, Miss Gallagher, to help your sister..."

"What about her baby?!" Fiona demands, her voice slightly garbled. "My sister wants her baby, sir! Can't you save the baby?!"

"Our first priority is to the mother, at this stage of pregnancy," the orderly replied, his voice filled with regret, and I felt hot tears coming out of my eyes.

"She can hear you," Fiona says, her voice continuing to fade in and out. "She can fucking hear you! Why are you being so insensitive?!"

"Miss Gallagher, I'm sorry," says a new voice then—presumably a doctor—as it sounds so authoritative. "But, I'm afraid, if you cannot remain calm, we'll ask you to leave."

"Don't," Fiona said, and I felt her hand in mine then. "It's going to be okay—it's all going to be okay," Fiona said, as I slipped further and further away from her, the blanket of darkness far too tempting to pass up completely. "It'll be okay, Murph," she whispers to me, her hands soft on my face as she brushes my tears away. "Murphy. Just hold on. Murphy? Murphy!" Fiona screams in anguish then as I am pulled in far too deep to respond, and far too deep to know what the future holds.

TO BE CONTINUED


	6. Knocking on Heaven's Door

Chapter Six: Knocking on Heaven's Door

My eyes spring open then, and I am assaulted by the bright lights that surround me, sterilization filling my nose in the next moment. Once I'm aware that the only thing pinning me down is an I.V., and that my face isn't covered by anything, I feel my heart pounding through my chest. I look around then, seeing that my room is empty, and I frantically look for a call box, so as to summon someone, anyone, in here to tell me what's going on. I remember speaking to Trevor the night before, and something about Ian being in a car accident. And yet, I didn't recall why I would need a hospital bed, I thought to myself, pressing the call button, hoping that someone would come in here to be with me.

The door opened a few moments later, and I was shocked to see Josh entering the room, a look of sympathy on his face. He stepped forward then, perching on the chair next to my bed, the look in his brown eyes grave. "Murphy, I am so sorry."

"Ian?" I whispered, hoping to glean new information from the four words he had given me. Yes, it all made sense now; I'd likely heard about the accident, and rushed to the hospital, but, upon hearing a potential diagnosis, I'd fainted. Yes, that must've been it... "Where's my brother?" I said softly, my throat dry from likely dehydration. "Where's Ian? Please... I need Ian," I whispered to him, my voice desperate, as tears blinded me then. "Ian..."

Josh shook his head. "Ian will be fine," he said gently. "He's in the recovery suite, having just got out of surgery. But it's you we need to worry about, too, Murphy."

"Me? Why me?" I asked, shaking my head at him. "Ian was in a car accident. Clearly, he's the main priority here..." I move to take the I.V. out of my arm, but Josh leans forward then, catching my hands to prevent me from doing so. "Don't touch me!" I cry out, yanking away from him, and Josh holds up his hands.

"I'm sorry, Murphy," he says. "But I can't allow you to do that. You need your rest, as much as Ian does."

"Why the fuck would I need to rest?!" I demanded.

Josh's eyes widened. "You really don't have a clue why you're here, do you?"

I scoffed, growing annoyed with him. "I fainted after I heard the news about Ian," I said, giving him a 'duh'-like expression. "Of course that's what happened."

"You passed out, yes, but it wasn't from that, Murphy. It was from the amount of blood you were losing, and the rate you were losing it."

I shook my head, attempting to pick my brain to remember something, anything, from the night before, and coming up empty. "I'm sorry. I don't know what you're talking about."

Josh maneuvered his clipboard from one hand to the other, almost as if he was reluctant to tell me something about myself. "Murphy, we did everything we could, but unfortunately, it was too late to do much of anything..."

I felt something shift inside me then as tears entered my eyes. I found myself gripping the hospital blanket as I stared at him, and, when I spoke, I sounded strained. "What do you mean you did everything you could?" I whispered. "What are you talking about?"

"Murphy, unfortunately when you arrived, you were in the advanced stages of labor, and, unfortunately, you have suffered a miscarriage," Josh confirmed.

I lowered my eyes then, my mouth opening then as I felt as if I'd been punched in the gut. I couldn't control myself then, the tears flowing faster now, as I heard a scream of anguish from somewhere far away. After a moment, I realized the sound was coming from me, and I just couldn't contain it. I felt Josh put a hand upon my shoulder, and say something to me, but I was too far gone to listen to him. Once I heard the door of my room closing, I lowered my face completely into my hands and sobbed.

. . .

Once the waterworks had cleared up, I managed to reach a state of numbness which the doctors took to be composure, and I didn't object. When I asked if I could leave my room, they told me that I was cleared to leave the hospital, so I immediately unplugged my I.V. and pushed back the hospital blankets. The staff were not amused, but didn't move to stop me as I got out of my clothes and into the ones I'd come in. I dug in my coat pocket, finding a hair tie as I piled my hair onto my head, and a stick of gum in another pocket, which I chewed.

I walked out of the hospital room, my phone still in my pocket, and walked to the reception area under the pretense of signing myself out, but instead, I walked straight up to the woman behind the desk. "My twin brother was admitted last night," I said, giving her a "don't you dare fuck with me" look. "Can I see him?"

"Name?"

I sighed, hating questions like this. "His or mine?"

"His name."

"Ian Gallagher," I replied.

"And your name?"

"Murphy Gallagher," I replied, showing her my I.D. as proof before she asked for it.

"Well, you're on the list, Miss Gallagher. In fact, there's a note here that Mr. Gallagher was screaming for you half the night. He's awake...now, actually, and he's been asking for you ever since he woke up."

"Well, then where is he?" I demanded.

"The recovery suite—one floor up," the woman said, obviously perturbed by my attitude, but obviously, I didn't give a fuck about her.

I rolled my eyes, muttering a thank you to her as I walked towards the elevators. I pressed the correct button and rode the chrome box up, which let me out on the correct floor. I followed the signs to the area, where a nurse directed me to the right room, and I automatically ran down to find the connecting hallway. As I ran, I couldn't help but think of everything that I might find on the other side of the door. All I could think of was, where is Ian somehow tide up to the bed in some medieval fashion, where would he have one of those weird air masks on? I wasn't told one way or the other, because all I could think of was seeing him, my twin, my best friend, the one who could somehow I understand what I was going through, because of our linked minds, due to being born at the same time.

Once I'd found his room, I didn't hesitate, and shoved open the door, relieved to find it unlocked for me. And I just stood there for a moment, on the threshold, taking in Ian then—sitting up in his hospital bed, his head was bandaged, and he had a few cuts on his face. I noticed that one of his hands was bandaged as well, but that seemed to be the extent of the injuries, as far as I could see, due to the fact that he was covered.

It could only have been a second or two to look him over, but soon I managed to find my voice and rushed forward, the door slamming loudly behind me, as I practically throwing myself at him. "Ian!" I shouted, and his arms came up then as best they could, pulling me to him, and although he hissed through his teeth, when I tried to move, he just held me there. "Wait—Ian! I could be hurting you—"

"My ribs got pretty fucked up," he said quietly, speaking for the first time. "But I don't want you to go, Murph. Don't go."

"I'm not going anywhere," I assured him, shaking my head, dashing the fresh tears from my eyes as I pulled back from him, and pulling his bedside chair closer. "I shouldn't be on my feet for long. The staff flipped out when I left my room without a fucking wheelchair," I said, even managing a laugh.

"Did you spend the night here last night?" Ian asked, looking me over then, confused. "I thought they only made patients use wheelchairs after a procedure..."

I nodded. "You're right. They do."

Ian blinked. "You didn't spend the night here?"

I sighed. "No, I did. But I had to have a procedure."

"What kind of procedure?" he demanded, suddenly looking frantic.

I shook my head then, reaching out and adjusting his blankets. "We don't need to worry about that, Ian," I said, attempting to play it off as I distracted myself with domestic tasks. "Come on, let's just focus on you—"

Ian caught my wrist then, and I raised my eyes to his, hesitating for a moment. "What aren't you telling me, Murph?" he asked.

I gently removed my wrist from his grip, this time moving onto his pillows. "Doesn't matter," I said, my voice firm, hoping to shut the subject down. "We need to focus on getting you up and out of this bed again—"

"Murphy!" Ian shouted, losing his temper, and I froze for a moment, before drawing back and sitting in my seat again.

"Sorry," I said quietly.

"I don't want you to be sorry," Ian said, his voice worried. "I want you to tell me what's going on with you."

I shook my head. "No. Ian, I can't..."

"Stop saying you can't," Ian replied, trying to keep his tone even. "Please. There's something going on here..."

I shut my eyes, attempting yet again to glean something from last night. "Blood," I whispered then, and heard Ian shifting in bed. "So much blood..."

"Yeah, I bled last night," Ian replied, trying to get a hang on what I was talking about. "I pretty much slammed into the dashboard before going through the fucking windshield..."

"On me," I whispered, and Ian stopped talking. "It wouldn't stop... Fiona came over to help... I remember calling Lip...calling Lip to stay with Liam... Fiona took me here," I said softly, "and that's when we found out you were here...and then...my eyes..." I opened mine then, but couldn't look up at Ian, and instead opted to stare at the pure white floor. "They rolled back into my head before they took me away... Fiona told them to help me...help the baby...but they said that they needed to save me..."

"Murphy?"

I shook my head. "I flatlined," I whispered. "I saw myself—looked down at myself in the bed. I saw you," I whispered, looking up at Ian then, and he looked shocked. "Strapped to the gurney they brought you in, covered with blood..."

"Murph..."

"Then, there was this upward motion," I whispered. "Like I was being sucked back to my body, and something was pressing down here," I said, touching the space between my breasts. "They kept shoving it onto me, and I kept pulling up to meet it..."

"A crash cart," Ian replied.

I nodded. "Sounds about right. Then they said, 'Mommy's saved. Let's save the baby...'" My voice broke then, considering the baby, and found myself curling in on myself, another cry escaping my lips at the notion of it all. "No..." I whispered, my voice barely audible, but broken nonetheless.

"Murphy?" Ian said, trying to get out of bed to hold me.

I scooted the chair closer, so that he could put his arms around me. "I'm sorry," I blubbered then, my voice shaking. "I shouldn't have..."

"Hey, now," Ian said gently, running his hand along the middle of my head and down, just past my shoulders. "I needed to know, Murph—you know that."

"I know you wanted this baby as much as I did," I whispered. "I know you did. I heard you and Fiona talking about it..."

Ian sighed. "Hey, if it wasn't meant to be, it wasn't meant to be," he said softly. "Besides, now that you know you can have a kid, you can always have another one."

I laughed a little then, pulling back and brushing the tears out of my eyes. "Yeah, that's true," I replied, rolling my shoulders. "How long do you think...?" I asked, leaving the question hanging there for a moment as I took in his injuries.

"At least a week," Ian replied.

I nodded. "Well, I hope someone called in sick for me today," I said ruefully. "But, I'll go home and change and get showed..."

"For what?"

I smiled. "Well, unless you have an objection, I'm staying with you," I replied. "Unless you want Trevor to come, and I understand if you do..."

Ian pursed his lips. "Trevor and I aren't speaking, Murph. You know that."

I sighed. "He came over last night, you know..."

"Trevor?"

I nodded. "Yeah. He wanted to apologize, and I forgave him, because, whether I like it or not, you two are good together, Ian. You really are."

"Then why didn't he come to see me?"

"He said he was going to find you," I replied. "I told him you were working a double, and he went out to go and find you."

Ian sighed. "And he couldn't have called, because my phone was totally fucked in the accident, so that's not helping..."

"I'll get you another phone," I said, knowing that I'd do anything to keep busy. "I'll just run home, shower and change and grab some stuff, and then I'll get you a new phone."

"Murph, you don't have to—"

I got to my feet, leaning down and kissing his forehead. "You were there for me, Ian—now let me be there for you," I said, keeping my voice firm as I gently squeezed his uninjured hand. "I won't be more than a couple of hours, okay?"

"If you insist," he said.

I nodded, walking towards the door. "I do. I'll be quick, okay?"

"Okay... Murph?"

"Yeah?" I asked, turning around to face him.

Ian smiled. "I love you."

I nodded. "Love you, too, Ian," I said, walking out of the room.

As I walked, I felt my keys in my pocket and made my way downstairs as quickly as possible, knowing that I must've looked like a wreck and hardly caring. I got to the main floor and walked towards the main entrance, where I saw a heavily clouded day waiting for me. Stepping outside, I walked through the parking lot, managing to find my car within five minutes. I got in, and slammed the door behind me, before taking the direct way out of the parking lot and driving as quickly as possible towards home.

When I arrived, I parked in my usual spot and slammed the door, making my way through the gate and up the stairs. Fishing my eyes out of my pocket again, I let myself inside and stepped towards the living room, shutting the door behind me. Looking around, I saw Fiona, Lip, Debbie, Franny, Lip, and Frank, all passed out in the living room. Shocked, I hung up my coat and stepped inside, making my way over to Fiona automatically.

"Fi?" I asked, leaning down and putting a gentle hand upon her arm. "Fi? It's getting dangerously close to eleven. Are you okay?"

"Murph!" Fiona screamed, her eyes shooting open then as she launched to her feet, yanking me into her arms in one fell swoop. "Oh, my god!" she said, the warm tears escaping her eyes and going down her cheeks faster than lightning as there were stirs from our siblings and father just behind us. "Are you okay?!"

I nodded, pulling back, angling myself in the center of the room so that everyone could see me, but also found myself automatically wrapping my arms around myself, so as nobody would attempt to hug me again. "Fine. All fine."

"How's the baby?" Debbie asked.

I gritted my teeth for a moment, wondering if I should've texted Fiona before getting back, to let her know what were and weren't acceptable discussion topics. "It's not something I can really discuss right now," I said, forcing a smile onto my face. "It's kind of a painful subject, and I don't really want—"

"Jesus Christ, Murphy! Did you fucking lose the baby or by some wonderful miracle, will the fucking Gallagher line continue?!" Frank demanded from where he lay, spread out, on the couch, Liam at his feet.

"Frank! What the fuck?!" Lip demanded then, turning on him immediately and proceeding to whale on him like there was no tomorrow.

"Jesus," I muttered to myself, automatically stepping in and grabbing Liam with Fiona, while Debbie kept Franny at bay. "This needs to stop," I say firmly, leaving Liam with Fiona, and I stepped between them then, hauling off Lip from Frank and standing between them like a goddammed referee. "Look," I said, feeling my heart beating a mile a minute, "this shit has to end once and for all. _You_ ," I said, jabbing my finger in Frank's direction, "have to stop fucking provoking people with every breath you take. And _you_ ," I said, turning on Lip, "have to stop defending me like I'm your woman. It's enough now. I'm not your woman, Lip—I'm your fucking sister, and while I appreciate your protection, I can handle myself."

Lip lowered his eyes. "I understand that."

"Prove it," Frank said from behind me.

"Okay," I said, turning around and jumping on him then, my fists flying, before I knocked my forehead into his nose, sending my biological father on a crying fit, fit for an infant. "Stop fucking messing with my shit," I said through my teeth, getting off him and turning to look at my family, who stared at me in shock. "Self-defense training," I say, wiping my nose with the back of my hand and shoving my shoulders. "I need to shower," I say in the silence that followed, and walked up the stairs.

Fiona was immediately on my tail while Lip took Liam and Franny outside, and Debbie saw to Frank, still whining on the couch like a fucking pussy. "Murph, talk to me," she said as I went into my bedroom to make a grab for a towel. "I know something went down at the hospital last night, so why don't you just tell me?"

"Why?" I demanded, turning on her. "So you can apologize profusely about how you were there for me for probably five fucking minutes before you went home?!"

Fiona looked shocked at my words, the same expression locked onto her face as I pushed past her and into the hall, towards the bathroom. "That's not how it happened, Murph," she said quietly, desperation being ladled into her tone. "The doctors said that you wouldn't wake up for hours, and that they'd call me when you woke up..." She dove into her pocket then, checking her phone. "No missed calls..."

"I told them not to call you," I reply, walking into the bathroom and shutting the door behind me in a quick gesture. I moved to get out of my old clothes then, throwing them around the room before I began hanging them on a spare space on a towel rack. The door came thundering open then, and Fiona stood there, her dark eyes blazing, and I immediately held up my towel. "Jesus, what the fuck is the matter with you?!" I demanded.

"Why the fuck would you tell the hospital not to fucking call me?!" she demanded, tears forming in her eyes. "I'm your fucking sister!"

"Yeah, you're my sister—nothing to be done about that now," I replied, crossing my arms to keep the towel in place.

"Fuck, Murph!" she cried out, throwing her hands into the air. "Why didn't you have them call me?! That's all I want to know!"

I stepped forward then, grabbing her by the shoulders. "Because I needed Ian," I said, my voice barely above a whisper, although it shook. "It was my goddamn hour of need, Fiona, and I needed my fucking twin, not my fucking sister."

"Your hour of need?" Fiona whispered. "What are you talking about?"

I sighed, which quickly morphed into a small combination of a laugh and a scoff as I lowered my eyes against her look. "I fucking lost the baby, Fiona," I said quietly.

"Oh, Murphy," Fiona said, moving to embrace me. "I'm so sorry."

"Thanks," I said, pulling back before she can hug me. "I really appreciate that. Now, if you could just announce to the family that fucking Frank was right again, that would be awesome because, right now, I have to take a shower, get changed, pack a bag, buy Ian a new cell phone, and get back to him," I say, turning around.

"Murphy, you don't want to go all the way back to the hospital, do you?"

I sigh, turning on the shower before turning back to face her. "Yeah, I actually fucking do," I replied, hating myself for being so hard, but knew it was the only thing keeping me in check. "I need a distraction, Fiona, and I need to be with Ian. It's a twin thing," I said, shrugging it off, knowing that she would never fully understand.

"Hey, Frank's bloody nose is improving," said a voice, coming around the corner, and I felt my cheeks flame as Lip stood there. "Shit," he whispered.

"Fuck," I whispered back. "Fiona...please."

"Right," she said, pulling the door shut behind her. She spoke softly to Lip then, and I pressed my ear to the door then, wanting to know what was being said. "Lip, I suppose you should be the first to know that Murphy had a miscarriage last night."

"Fuck," Lip replied, anguish piercing his tone.

"Yeah," she replied. "She's asked me to tell the family, on her behalf, and she's also requested that you don't say anything to her about it."

Lip sighed. "I would ask why, but I think I already know why."

"Goddamn smart gene of yours," Fiona joked. "Come on. Let's go try and get Debbie away from Frank—can't have her helping him too much," she said, a small laugh in her voice. "Come on. I know it's going to be hard, Lip, but we have to be strong—for Murphy."

Lip sighed, and I detected the smattering of a sob behind his tone. "Yeah. I'll... I'll try to be strong, Fi. I'll really try."

"I know you will, Lip. Now, let's go downstairs."

I waited for both sets of footfalls to reach the stairs before I turned around and removed my towel from around my body. The notion that my stomach would remain this way for at least a few weeks crushed me anew then as I stepped into the shower. As the rush of warm water hit me then, I found that I wished it was rain. As I cupped my face in my hands, my sobs erupted from me then, and I found I didn't know when, or if, they would ever stop crying for the child I didn't know, but one that I had, nonetheless, lost.

. . .

"I don't know whether or not this counts as contraband," I said with a grin, tossing Ian his new cell phone when it arrived that Monday evening.

"I don't think so, but it's one of the latest models!" he cried out, looking over it's new features from the last one he had. "Why did you...?"

I shrugged at him. "Hey, I got you something reliable, and we had an upgrade on the account anyway," I replied. "Besides, you should really change your passcode..."

Ian looked up. "What do you mean?"

I smirked. "I'm sorry, but 642539 is a pretty obvious number," I tell him, sitting down in my chair and passing him the tray of hospital food I'd brought up for him.

Ian looked away, pretending to futz with his new piece of technology. "How so?" he asked, a smirk developing on his face, a smirk that said, _She'll never even attempt to guess what the code means—she can't know_!

"Because it spells out 'Mickey'," I replied.

Immediately, Ian looked up at me. "How did you possibly figure that out?"

"By looking at the numbers online," I said with a smile. "Hardly any phone have the physical numbers anymore, Ian, but I guess I wanted to know what yours was..."

Ian crossed his arms. "Which one's yours?"

I sighed. "It's a little embarrassing..."

Ian raised his eyebrows. "Try me, then."

"It's just three numbers—547," I replied. "Do you realize how much of a pain in the ass those numbers are to change? I have to wait until the end of the year to change mine..."

"So, it's Lip, then?" Ian asked, and I felt myself automatically flushing to my ears. "Your passcode is Lip?"

I sighed, trying to come up with another three-letter word, but the only one I could come up with was a racial slur, and that wasn't acceptable. "Yeah," I replied. "I changed plans a couple of weeks after I moved here, and it seemed like a good idea at the time..."

"Have you put in a request for a new code?"

I nodded. "Yeah, and it's on the books to go into effect in January."

"What's the new code going to be?"

"426," I replied.

"For what?" he asked.

I smiled. "For 'Ian'," I replied, shrugging. "You're my best friend and my fucking twin, and I don't mind having it associated with my phone..."

"Hey, what's wrong?" Ian asked.

I sighed. "Before I came up to see you, on that first day, they let me..." I broke off for a moment, attempting to keep my emotions in check. "They let me see the baby."

"Jesus Christ," Ian replied, putting his phone aside. "Are you okay?"

I nodded, dashing the tears from my eyes. "Yeah, I... I'll be fine," I said, forcing a smile. "And you won the bet..."

"What?"

I gave him a smile. "It was a boy," I replied. "I asked to name him, and then I arranged for a burial in a cemetery close to the house."

"When's the burial?"

"At the end of the week," I replied.

"What'd you name him?"

"Ian," I replied, reaching out and taking his hand. "I named him Ian Jasper Gallagher—I just wanted the middle name to be neutral, you know?"

He nodded. "I know."

"Guess I want to get a fresh start now, you know?"

"You're not leaving?" he asked.

I shook my head. "No, not by leaving," I assured him. "I just mean in my personal life. I mean, I hope I can meet a nice guy and, eventually, try again, for another baby, you know?"

"Eventually," Ian said.

I smiled at him." Eventually," I assured him.

I squeezed his hand for a moment before getting to my feet and crossing the room towards the window he had. Looking out, I saw the lights of Chicago in the darkness, although I was very surprised at the fuzziness in my vision. In fact, my vision began swimming shortly thereafter, and I found myself gripping the window sill before me.

"Ian..."

"Yeah?" he asked and, for some reason, his voice sounded very far away.

I tried turning around then, my grip on the window sill wavering, and attempted to walk towards him then, but ended up tripping on my own two feet. I grabbed the side of the bed before I could fall completely, and moved over to the chair, practically collapsing into it, while Ian had ahold of the call box and was frantically pushing the button for a nurse, or someone, to help us.

When they came in, I somehow found that my ability to talk had not diminished; in fact, I found that I was screaming as they tried to take me away. "No!" I shouted, feeling my consciousness fading then as I grabbed at them. "I want to stay with Ian, please..." I begged, my voice wavering then as I felt myself fading, hanging like a limp noodle in their arms.

When I came to, I was squinting beneath the bright light and, when I looked around, I saw that Ian was staring at me from his hospital bed. Looking down, I felt instant relief when I saw my request to stay with Ian was granted, and there I sat, in a hospital bed of my own. I turned to look at Ian again, throwing up my hands.

"I fucking give up," I said with a laugh.

"What?" he asked, obviously relieved that I seemed all right.

"Well, obviously my body thinks its job is to compete with you medically, and, to be honest, I think it's sick," I replied.

Ian rolled his eyes. "You were only out for half an hour. Oh, and I told the doctors to go ahead and take a blood sample, just to make sure you're okay."

I blinked, surprised. "Yeah. O-okay," I said.

There was a knock at the door then and, when it opened, I found myself surprised to see Josh standing there yet again, a look of glee on his face as he stepped forward. "Good evening, Murphy, Ian," he said, before pulling up a chair. "Murphy, I need to speak with you... Shall I ask Ian to pull the curtain around his bed?"

"No," I said, just a bit too loudly, before I reached out and clasped Ian's hand. "He's my brother and my twin. Anything you say to me, he can hear."

Josh smiled before pulling out his clipboard. "Well, it seems we've made an error, Murphy," he said gently before looking up at me. "You are pregnant."

I turned and looked at Ian, who regarded me with a shocked expression before I turned to Josh again and shook my head. "That's impossible. You yourself told me I'd lost the baby..."

"We frequently get false positives after a miscarriage, Murphy, but we detected it in an exam while you were asleep—Ian gave consent," he replied, and Ian saluted Josh then, as I attempted to discern the legality of the situation, and found myself coming up empty. "It seems as though you were pregnant with twins, Murphy, and while you miscarried your son, the other child has decided to hang on."

I shook my head at him. "So...I'm still pregnant?" I whispered.

Josh nodded. "As of this moment, yes. Yes, you are."

"Did that cause my fainting?" I ask.

"Fainting in pregnancy suggests something as complicated as blood vessels relaxing to the various hormones in your body, or something as simple as neglecting to drink enough water or to eat enough calories."

I sighed. "I guess I just wasn't hungry these last couple of days..."

"Understandable, given the circumstances, but now, you have to eat something, Murphy," Josh said firmly to me. "Do you understand?"

I nodded. "I understand, yes."

"Good," Josh said. "We've booked you an appointment on the twentieth to find out what's really been going on in there," he said, getting to his feet. "Yet another case of a hidden twin," he joked to himself, slipping out of the room.

I turned to look at Ian then, feeling myself fill with hope. "I can't believe any this," I whispered then, my voice shaking.

"Twins," Ian whispered.

I placed a hand on my stomach. "Will you be out in time for the service?" I asked, referring to little Ian's funeral at the end of the week.

Ian smiled. "Of course I will," he replied, tightening his grip in mine. "We're a family, Murphy, and nothing about this bond is going anywhere."

I shook my head. "Never," I replied, leaning over and throwing my arms around him.


	7. You Oughta Know

Chapter Seven: You Oughta Know

Ian was able to leave the hospital by the end of the week, so as we could properly mourn little Ian at the local cemetery. Fiona, Lip, Debbie, Carl, and Liam were all in attendance as well, and I was shocked when Josh unexpectedly showed up. I handed over my keys to Ian as soon as the ceremony was over, telling him I would be along in a moment. We exchanged a knowing glance before I stepped towards Josh, and, thankfully, the rest of my siblings took a hint and slipped away from the two of us.

"I'm so sorry about everything, Murphy," Josh said gently, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder. "How are you holding up?" he asked.

I smiled. "It's getting better. I think the whole family support system is something that really works for me, you know?"

Josh nodded. "Your file says you were adopted at three months?"

I gave a slight nod at that. "Yeah. I didn't find my biological family until August of this year and it was quite a shock."

"You never expected so many siblings?"

"Or a twin," I replied, laughing, before remembering why Josh and I were here, and I forced the smile from my lips.

Josh stepped forward then, his dark brown eyes looking genuinely concerned as he took my hand in his, and I couldn't deny the notion that my heartbeat quickened. "You okay?" he asked, his voice quiet, and his tone sincere.

"Mmm-hmm," I replied, my eyes locking onto his, trying to remember how to breathe. "I'm fine, Josh, really..."

Josh sighed. "I hate to ask, but... Is the father involved?" he asks, his eyes lowering to my stomach, which had continued to grow by the day. "I mean, if he is, I don't want to just step in and ruin anything..."

I shook my head. "It was a one-night-stand," I reply. "An ex of someone I know—it's not important to go into the details. He's out of the country, and he's likely to stay there."

"For work?"

"For protection," I reply. "He's...wanted, up here. And, given my loyalty to this baby, I don't think I should get into details."

Josh nodded. "I understand," he replied. "But... There's nothing between you?"

I shook my head. "Other than a few fleeting minutes of what I hope was drunken passion, no. I can honestly say there's nothing between me and him."

Josh let go of my hand then, hesitating, before bringing his hand up to my face, where he gently brushed his knuckles against my cheek. He trailed his thumb along my bottom lip, and, although I found a part of me wanted to, I didn't respond orally to it, but physically—that was another matter entirely. Josh's eyes widened then when my entire body seemed to spasm at his touch, and his eyes locked to mine again.

He quickly moved to withdraw his hand. "I'm sorry..."

"Don't be," I replied, reaching out and returning his hand to my face. "Look, I know it's complicated—me being pregnant and all—and I won't ask for anything, really..."

Josh smiled. "Well, maybe after the baby's born, if you want to get together sometime, I would be open for that."

I returned his smile then. "I would like that."

Josh kept right on smiling, leaning in and kissing my cheek. "Well, I guess I'll end up seeing you around the hospital—"

"Murphy!" we heard from behind us then, and, turning, I saw Lip coming towards us in the speed that was considered just top for a cemetery.

"Lip?" I asked. "Something wrong?"

"I think Liam's getting sick or something," Lip replied, giving Josh a heated look. "Fiona wants to get him home..."

"Right. Of course," I replied, quickly moving a respectable distance away from Josh.

"Anything I can do to help?" Josh asked.

Lip immediately shook his head, putting an arm around my shoulders. "We've got it covered," he replied stoutly, before moving me back towards my car.

"Is Liam okay?" I asked, once we were about halfway back to the car.

Lip shook his head, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it up. "Fuck if I know. I just made that shit up so we could get the hell outta here."

"Wait. You fucking lied?!" I demanded, pushing away from him. I hesitated for a moment before grabbing his cigarette and smashing it with my foot.

"What the fuck, Murph?!" Lip demanded.

"Second-hand smoke is bad for the baby, you shithead!" I said, looking at him as if he was fucking crazy. Turning, I saw that Josh had since gotten into his car, and was pulling towards one of the entrances of the cemetery. "Josh is my fucking doctor—"

Lip shrugged, looking as if he would light another cigarette, but decided better of it and shoved the box back into his pocket. "Not from where I'm standing."

"Excuse me?" I said, my tone low but deadly.

Lip made a face. "He was acting totally unprofessional, running his hands all over you like you're for sale—"

"And why the hell should you even give a fuck, Lip?" I said, shaking my head at him. "I'm getting so tired of this bullshit—I don't need you fucking protecting me every time something doesn't go your way!" I stepped closer to him then, knowing that it was unwise, but I didn't want Jesus, Mary, and Joseph hearing our conversation. "Look, Lip—I know these last several months have been hard for you. I mean, please, they've been hard for me, too. But you know where the two of us stand—"

Lip grabbed my wrist then as he stared down at me, his eyes taking on more pain than I'd ever seen in my life. "You love me," he whispered. "I know you love me, Murphy. And I know you want to be with me."

"Lip, stop—"

"We could go somewhere where nobody knows who we are," he said, his tone shaking. "We could make a new life for ourselves—you, me, the baby—and nobody would fucking know where we were or where we came from—"

"Lip, I don't—"

"I know you're scared, Murph," Lip said, leaning in closer then, as if he would kiss me. "But so am I, and I know we can make it work—"

I pulled at my arm then, but Lip had it in a vice-like grip and wouldn't let me go. "Lip, please, you have to stop this. Let me go, now! Let go!"

"Lip!" Ian shouted then, getting out of the car and running over, which couldn't have been good for any of his injuries. "Get the fuck off her!" he yelled, shoving Lip away from me, and moving to stand between us, facing Lip, and placing a hand on my left arm, to ward off any blows Lip may have thrown our way.

"Hey, hey, what the hell's going on?!" Fiona demanded, getting out of the car, and leaving Debbie to watch Liam and Franny.

"Tell Lip to keep his fucking hands off Murphy!" Ian shouted.

Fiona looked over at Lip in disbelief. "I thought you had a handle on this," she said to him, her voice low, but her tone severe.

Lip ran his hands over his face. "Yeah, I thought I did, too. But then that fucking doctor was running his hands all over her—"

"Why don't you mind your own goddamn business?!" I yelled, and I raised my eyebrows at the hurt that radiated from Lip's eyes to mine. "Lip... You need to stop this," I said quietly, my tone softening. "Really. It's enough now."

"Murphy's right," Ian said, angling himself so that his arm was now around my shoulders. "I mean, come on, Lip. She's our fucking sister."

"Your goddamn right," Fiona said, nodding at Lip. "Murphy is our sister, and you've got to get this idea outta your head that you two can be more than that, because it just can't happen. I know it's hard, but you need to accept that."

Lip shook his head. "I'm such a mess..."

"You're a Gallagher," said a voice, and I was shocked to find that the voice was mine. "I mean, aren't we all fucking messes in one way or another?"

"Murphy's right. Nobody's perfect, Lip," Ian said quietly.

"I just I just need to get out of my head for a while, you know?" he asked.

"But safely," Fiona cautioned.

"Yeah," Lip said, slowly walking towards one of the entrances of the cemetery. "Maybe... But, right now, I'm going to get on a train, and do some thinking," he said.

"Lip, maybe you shouldn't—" I began.

"I just need some time, Murphy," Lip said firmly, and left us standing by my car.

. . .

Christmas vacation for the firm was now in full swing as the rest of the week seemed to drift by, and I spent much time on my computer ordering gifts for my entire family. I was pleased to see, as the holiday preparations continued, that Ian and Trevor were finally on the same page again, and I noticed that Ian was relieved that Trevor and I were as well. The main gift I had for the entire family would be revealing the gender of the baby, which, of course, I had to have a conversation with Debbie about as December wore on...

"I just think gender reveal parties are tacky," I said, shrugging my shoulders.

Debbie crossed her arms then as Franny crawled between us on the couch, considering which Gallagher's lap she would invade next. "What did you intend on doing?"

"I don't know," I said. "Showing off the latest ultrasound and just saying it on Christmas morning, after the presents are opened?"

"No way," she said, shaking her head. "There has to be a cake with pink or blue frosting, or something... It's not October, so we can't do pumpkins... Or maybe you could have two mock Christmas gifts and you and Ian could each unwrap one, and if they're filled with pink or blue something—"

"Why do you assume Ian would even want to be a part of this?"

"Part of what?" Ian asked, descending the stairs with Trevor, who had spent the night again. Ian smiled at the two of us, kissing our foreheads in turn before lifting up Franny, while Trevor grinned at us all from the kitchen. "You talking about me?"

I shrugged. "Debbie wants to have a gender reveal party," I said, knowing that I had to say my next piece. "Of course, I'm all for knowing the doctor's opinion, but I'm considering an alternative approach, where I'll listen to the baby once he or she or they is old enough to understand and go from there."

"So, sort of gender neutral?" Trevor asked, stepping forward.

I nodded. "Of course. But am I going to dress her in pink until she tells me no, or in adorable blue overalls until he says no? Admittedly, yes," I replied.

Trevor grinned. "Well, before they can talk, I say just give them as much love as you can. From there, listen to them when they can speak for themselves."

"So, is a gender reveal party okay?" Debbie asked.

I sighed. "Debbie, this is _my_ baby, and I really think—"

"How do I factor into all of this?" Ian asked.

"Well," Debbie said, grinning at Ian, "I was thinking we could have, like, mock Christmas presents, filled with either pink or blue ribbon, and you and Murphy would open them after we did Christmas presents!"

"I thought I said that we wouldn't be doing—" I began again.

"That sounds like fun," Ian said, turning to Trevor. "What do you think?"

"I think that it's Murphy's baby, and if she doesn't want a party, then she shouldn't have to have one," Trevor replied. "Of course, if she wants one, that's a different story."

"Mine wasn't very good, because Fiona didn't approve of any of it," Debbie said quietly, in a voice that I knew was meant to sway me.

"Fine," I grumbled, leaning back against the couch, arms crossed. "We'll have the effing party, okay, Debbie?!"

Debbie clapped her hands. "Yay! I'll get in touch with one of those places, and then you can let the doctor know where you want the gender information sent."

"Sex," Trevor, Ian, and I said at the same time.

"Whatever they're calling it these days," Debbie said as she rolled her eyes, already scrolling through her phone. She then grabbed Franny a few moments later before she headed out into the falling snow.

"Ugh," I say through my teeth, moving to get to my feet, and am shocked when Ian and Trevor immediately step forward to help me up. "Oh, what gentleman," I said, leaning in and kissing them both of the cheek before heading into the kitchen.

"Want me to make you something?" Ian asked.

I turn around and smile at him. "That's sweet, but I'm fine, really."

"Your hands aren't tired from all the Christmas shopping?" Trevor asks.

I laugh as I turn to Trevor and grin. "If that's a cleverly contrived way of asking me if I bought you a Christmas present, yes. Yes, I did."

"All right," Trevor said, smiling and turning to Ian. "Told you."

"Just hope she didn't buy you something _too_ intimate," Ian replied.

I smirked at the notion of it, walking over to the oven where I'd put some cookies in a while ago, and bent to pull them out. "What's considered too inappropriate?" I asked, placing the cookie sheet on the stove and turning to look at them.

Trevor lowered his eyes. "Well..."

"That's the thing..." Ian said quietly.

I felt my brows knit together. "Am I missing something here? Did I say something wrong?" I ask, looking from one to the other. "Jesus, it's not like I'd buy you sex toys, for Christ's sake, guys! I'm a little more sensitive than that..."

Trevor's eyes immediately lock to Ian's. "You tell her?"

Ian shook his head. "No, man, I swear!"

I sighed, pulling off the oven mits. "If this is about Trevor being trans," I say, and both of them whip around to look at me, "I already knew."

Trevor gave a nod. "Who told you? Lip?"

"No," I replied, shaking my head. "Jeez, I may have lost my physical virginity to my brother, but I'm not totally clueless when it comes to other things."

"How did you find out?" Ian asked.

I made a face, feeling guilty. "Remember that day you were working a double, before the accident, and I surprised you by cleaning the house?"

"Yeah," Ian replied.

"Well, I cleaned your room, and you hadn't emptied your trash," I say, my eyes slowly drifting towards Trevor. "I wasn't snooping, I swear. I took your trash outside and a pill bottle came out of the mix, and it landed face-up."

"What was it?" Trevor asked.

"Testosterone, with your name on it," I replied. "I swear, I haven't said anything, but now, I figured, it would be nice to say that I know," I went on, stepping forward and placing my hand on his shoulder, "and I don't fucking care. You care about my brother, and that's all that matters to me Trevor. I could care less if your skin were green—none of it matters to me. Besides," I said, grinning at them both, "wielding a cock can be fun."

Ian's eyes popped. "Wait, you and Jessica?"

I nodded. "Yeah," I said, shrugging. "Kinda fun, once you get used to it."

"Giving or receiving?" Trevor asked.

"Giving, always giving," I replied. "I guess a little part of me didn't want to get too close to anyone, considering I never let her use any of her toys on me, or her hands," I said with a small laugh at the notion of it. "Just my way of keeping a wall up and protecting myself, I guess, and the best way I knew how was to keep her at arm's length whenever we were in public. Sounds stupid now, considering how much I loved her, but..." I shrug.

"Ian's given me the abridged version," Trevor said quietly, "about what Dr. Jackass ended up putting you through."

I smirked. "Dr. Normal."

"Nah, Dr. Jackass seems more appropriate," Trevor said with a grin. "Given what I know, I can imagine what else there is, but I don't want to."

"Given your job with Children of the Night?" I ask.

Trevor nodded. "I've heard and seen it all, or at least I think I have, and then I get another phone call that shocks me to no end."

I bite my lip, lifting up my sweater and shirt and showing the mark of the belt buckle—Dr. Normal's belt buckle. "These things normally don't last as long," I said softly as Ian looked away in anger, and as Trevor stared at it.

"I've seen marks like that before," Trevor said, looking horrified. "How long ago did the son of a bitch give that to you?"

I sighed, lowering my shirt. "It was four, five years ago now..."

Trevor sighed. "Usually marks that bad only stay for that long if the buckle itself has been lit before it makes contact with the skin."

I gave a jerk of a nod. "You're not wrong."

"That fucking psycho branded you?!" Ian demanded.

I sighed. "It is what it is, Ian. After he caught us, and beat me, he left me in my room for three days—sent a letter to my college that I had mono. He then proceeded to make me do my homework for the next week and a half without food, and only gave me water once a day. Then, he gave me a choice—he could mark me, and I could go, or I could stay unmarked, but then stay in my room forever."

"You chose to be marked?" Trevor asked.

I nodded. "Yeah, knowing that I could escape eventually was hope I held onto. And even though he wasn't feeding me, I spent time out of the line of sight of the camera, just training. I knew that if he didn't let me go after the burning, I had to be ready to fight him. I was prepared to kill him, but it didn't come to that, thankfully."

"Thankfully?!" Ian screamed, looking as if he wanted to reach out to me, but was shaking at the notion of it all that he held his ground. "That bastard deserved to die!"

I shook my head. "Ian, Dr. Normal had all the right friends in all the right places, meaning that he could've had them turn on me at any moment. It would've meant life in prison, or a mental hospital, likely the same one I'd spent time in. No way in hell I was going to risk that, and once he let me go, I made too many excuses to count on not going back."

"This is bullshit," Ian muttered.

"Hey," I said, stepping forward. "I am fine. I still get dark days sometimes—you know that, and I know that, and Trevor knows that—but the most important thing now is to remember that that's not my life anymore."

"She's safe, man," Trevor said, placing his hand upon Ian's shoulder. "Murphy's safe, here with you, and she's not going anywhere."

"I am not going anywhere, Ian," I said firmly. "I'm staying here. The baby and I are staying here, and nothing could make me leave."

"Not even Josh?" Ian asked.

I smiled. "No. I don't even think Josh is the one. We're going to see where it goes after the baby is born but, ultimately..." I shrugged. "I think I want to have a little fun and fool around a bit before I commit to anything. I'm still young, and although this baby will be my main priority, I'll still devote some time for myself."

Trevor put his free hand upon my shoulder and nodded his head. "There's nothing wrong with that, Murph," he replied.

"Just..." Ian hesitated for a moment. "Just don't pull a Monica," he said quietly. "Getting high and just up and leaving."

I shook my head at him, closing the distance between us and hugging him. "I am not Monica, Ian—I didn't even meet the woman who was our mother, and I sure as hell didn't need to, in order to know the hell she put you all through. I deserved a seventh of that hell, Ian, and I'm so sorry I wasn't there to bear it."

Ian held me in his arms then, his body language telling me he was reluctant to let go. "You're not going to go?"

"No," I said quietly. "I'm not going to go."

. . .

That Friday was my ultrasound, and I'd already told the doctor to send the information to the company that Debbie had found to reveal the sex of the baby. I was relieved that she had given them my number, and I was permitted to design the boxes for the revealing. Once the quick phone conversation was over, I gave them the address of the house before hanging up. I arrived at the hospital on Friday morning solo, as Ian was pulling in as many shifts as he could to ensure a good amount of time off in anticipation of Christmas.

"Good morning, Murphy," the tech said, leading me back. "Solo today?"

"My brother's an EMT, so he's working a double," I explained as I was led to the darkened room, where the machine was all set up. "He wants good time off for Christmas."

"Sounds reasonable," the tech answered, motioning for me to get on the table. She heated the goo like the previous time, before instructing me to roll up my shirt accordingly, exposing my stomach, which was still popping in the dead center of my stomach, and placed the wand in a good spot. "I heard about your miscarriage, Murphy," she said quietly. "I'm so sorry that we were unable to detect a twin."

I shook my head. "That's all right," I replied. "I'm just hoping that this one manages to stick around for oh, I don't know, eighty or ninety years..."

"Let's have a look," the tech replied, typing in some codes before the screen flickered to life, and a baby lay inside my womb upon it. "There's the baby," she said with a smile. "I received your information for the gender reveal company. You would like me to send it to them, and then they will send it to your house. Is that correct?"

I nodded, only having eyes for the screen. "That's correct," I reply. "Is the baby okay?" I asked, my voice soft. "Is it healthy?"

The tech smiled. "Your baby looks exceptionally healthy, Murphy," she replied. Flicking a switch, the fluttering, whooshing sound of the heartbeat filled the room, which quickly brought tears to my eyes.

"Wow," I whispered.

I instructed the technician to put the photographs into an envelope, which I would put into my purse for now and then find somewhere to hide them in anticipation of the reveal in the next few days. I was pleased for, the following day, I was going to get the elastics off from Frank breaking my jaw. I'd healed nicely, and would've taken them off myself if it weren't for various forums online telling me not to.

I went to the surgeon the following afternoon, and it was quite a weird procedure to say the least, with latex making contact with my tongue at every turn as the doctor fished in there to remove all the elastics taking up space in my mouth. After paying the man, I left the hospital, crunching through the snow in my snow boots and getting to my car as quickly as possible. I managed to get out of parking lot and into the line of traffic, the snow-covered roads were cautious but not dangerous as I continued through the slush.

As I drove, a familiar figure walked along the sidewalk, and I was shocked to see that it was Lip walking there. Pulling along to the side of the road, I rolled down my window, knowing that, ultimately, it was the right thing to do. "Lip!" I called out. "Lip!"

Lip turned around at the sight of my voice. "Hey, Murph."

I sighed. "Get in the car, Lip. It's fucking freezing."

Lip sighed back, but moved to get in the car. He slid in, cold air seeping off him as I rolled the window back up and drove on. "Thanks."

I nodded. "No problem—I'm your sister," I said, flashing him a smile.

Lip's mouth resembled a hard line then. "Right."

"Look, Lip, this isn't going to be easy, considering that we were, in technical terms, dating," I say, and Lip lowers his eyes. "But I just want you to know that this is just as difficult for me as it is for you, because you know how hard I fell for you," I said gently, breaking my rule of not talking about it ever again.

Lip sighed. "I know. I fell hard, too, Murph."

"I just want you to know that, if I hadn't found out the information, then I wouldn't have run to Mexico, or changed a thing," I said quietly.

"Is that a backhanded way of saying that you and I would still be together, and that the baby would be my baby?"

"I'm not saying it is, and I'm not saying it isn't."

Lip nodded. "I'll take what I can get."

"Heard you knew about Trevor," I said quietly, making conversation.

"Oh, yeah?" he asked, his tone considerably lighter. "He tell you?"

I shook my head, stopping at a traffic light. "No. I already knew."

"You did? When did you find out?"

"Couple weeks before the breakdown," I replied, pulling through the intersection. "Ian and I have more in common than I thought at first glance."

"Yeah?" Lip asked, turning to look at me for a moment as he absorbed the information. "How do you mean?"

"He told me that he started cleaning up Mickey's house a few years back, before you all had him committed," I replied. "Wanted to organize all his shit or something, I don't know..."

"And you did that?" Lip asked.

I nodded. "I did, and I made the mistake of cleaning Ian's room."

"Find something?"

I sighed. "Let's just say that I found something that made me connect the dots, but out of respect, I won't say what it was."

Lip grinned then, leaning back in the seat. "It was a fake cock, wasn't it?"

I threw up my hands. "Oh, my god! You're disgusting! They're not so bad, you know," I said, and turned to look at Lip for a moment.

"What?" he asked.

I shrugged. "I may have physically lost my virginity to you, Lip, but on an emotional level, well, it was to someone else."

"Who was it?"

"My ex, I guess," I said, shrugging. "She and I never really said where we stood. I think she wanted more than I did."

"Whoa. A chick?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Pretty great, huh?"

"So, you were the dominant one?"

I shrugged. "I...guess? If you want to be that black and white about it."

Lip shrugged back. "Can't say I know much about it, really..."

I raised my eyebrows as we turned onto our street. "You've never watched fucking porn?" I asked, finding that I was laughing.

"Of course I have—I'm a young man in America."

"And there's my answer," I replied, pulling up outside the house. "Coming in?"

Lip sighed. "Don't know if I should...given what happened..."

I reached out and placed my hand on his shoulder. "Lip, you're our brother, and it's the fucking holiday season. Get your ass inside before I kick it there."

Lip laughed. "Okay, you twisted my arm," he replied, opening his door and walking arm in arm with me, through the snow, up to the house.

. . .

We Gallagher's sure knew how to put a holiday on, and that Christmas was no exception. After spending nearly an hour opening our presents and then figuring out if we'd actually opened all our gifts, Debbie got to her feet. Dreading what was coming, I attempted to shrink behind Ian, but Ian hauled me to my feet to stand beside Debbie. I rolled my eyes, especially seeing that Debbie had prepared a speech for the occasion.

"Attention everyone," Debbie said. "As you all know, Murphy has just begun her twenty-first week of being pregnant. As some of you do not know, twenty weeks is the usual marker to figure out what the _sex_ of your baby is," she said, stressing the word, and Ian, Trevor, and I grinned at one another. "So, without further ado, Murphy and Ian will proceed."

I sighed, moving with Ian to the coffee table, where the specially designed mock presents had been placed by my just a few moments ago, so as to avoid confusion. "The indicator said we just lift up the lid of the box," I explained to Ian. "The bows are just for show."

Ian nodded. "Got it."

I inhaled an exhaled, my fingers primed to lift the lid. "Okay," I said, and heard Debbie pressing the record button upon her phone before I turned to Ian. "Let's go!"

At the same time, Ian and I lifted the lids of our boxes, which were each filled with an abundance of pink ribbon. It took for a moment for me to fully register it, but then Ian and I were grabbing it by the handful, like there was no tomorrow, and throwing it around the room. He and I cheered aloud then, and he threw his arms around me in a moment of joy.

"It's a girl!" we shouted together. "It's a girl!"

"Aww, yay!" Debbie cried. "Franny, you're getting a playmate!"

I rolled my eyes in a sarcastic manner, placing my hands upon my stomach. "Well, Baby Girl Gallagher," I said softly, "guess I need to start calling you by your name now..."

"You've picked a name?" Fiona asked.

I nodded. "Yeah. Ian knows the name I chose," I said, and he placed a comforting arm around my shoulder as I faced them then. "Everyone, I've decided that the baby's name is Iana Phillipa Gallagher," I said, my voice prouder than it had ever been in my entire life. "After my two brothers, whom I never could've gone through this crazy journey without. We may have had our differences, but they've only made us stronger. Merry Christmas!" I said, and Ian pulled me into a hug first, followed by Fiona, Trevor, Debbie and Franny, Liam, and then Lip.

You could've heard a pin drop during our embrace, but he pulled back at an appropriate moment and kissed me on the cheek without any false pretenses. "Good on you, sis," he said, and I found myself breaking out into a smile at his words.

We were now, officially-officially, on our way.


	8. Countless Hours

Chapter Eight: Countless Hours

There was a quite lull within the household after Christmas had ended, and everyone was looking forward to the new year and making resolutions for themselves. Ian knew my resolution without even asking, just as I knew his, and we would take the opportunity to smirk at one another as the quiet days went by. Three days after Christmas was the marking point of when my pregnancy-safe antidepressants were supposedly going to begin to work, and I felt a lightness to my step that I hadn't felt in months when I came downstairs that morning.

"Hey," Ian said, wandering around the kitchen, a mug of coffee in his hand. "Craving anything this morning for breakfast?"

I hummed a little at that as I mulled it over, sitting at the table in the kitchen beside Liam, leaning over and kissing his forehead. "Maybe some eggs," I replied. "But I can make them, Ian—you don't have to worry about it, because you've got work in an hour..."

"It's all good—I'll make them," he said, flashing me a smile and taking out the frying pan. "Do you want them scrambled with cheddar?"

I flashed Ian a grin. "Yes," I replied, turning to Liam. "I have a fun-filled day planned for the two of us, little man."

Liam looked up from his latest book, _Treasure Island_ , and looked at me, his dark eyes wide. "Do you?" he asked.

"Absolutely," I said. "You and I are going to get dressed up all warm, and we're taking your new sled to the park to go down that big hill. Won't that be fun?"

"Yeah!" Liam cried, clapping his hands.

"We're running low on some things," Ian said quietly as he walked back to the frying pan, the carton of eggs in his hands. "Maybe you could do some shopping later?"

I laughed aloud then, pulling up my memo app on my phone, where I'd written a shopping list the night before. "Way ahead of you," I replied.

Ian stared at me for a moment, cracking a few eggs in a bowl—enough for the three of us. "Are you in my head, Murphy?"

I gave him an expression I personally would describe as triumphant. "That depends. Are you in my head, Ian?" I asked.

Ian laughed. "Probably."

I nodded. "Same goes for me, then."

Liam and I watched as Ian made eggs for us, and, quite soon, Liam took it upon himself to climb into my lap, settling in quickly.

"Hello, little man," I said, lifting him slightly to adjust him accordingly. "Looks like you found a good spot. Enjoying ourselves, are we?"

Liam grinned up at me, laying down his head on my shoulder. "When is the baby coming, Murphy? Is it soon?" he asked quietly.

I looked up at Ian, who immediately looked over his shoulder and grinned at our brothers' inquisitive behavior. "Not soon enough," I replied. "She'll be here about a month before your summer vacation starts."

"Are you excited?" he asked.

I leaned down and kissed his forehead. "Of course I am. Another Gallagher for the family? I mean, what could be better?"

Liam looked up at me then for a moment, before his eyes drifted down to my stomach. "Can I help with the baby, Murphy?"

I smiled down at him. "Of course you can, Liam. You'll be the baby's uncle, and we'll need you on hand, won't we Ian?"

"Absolutely," Ian replied, flipping the eggs around the pan, the heavenly aroma of eggs and cheese filling the kitchen. "Murphy's bosses have generously given her the entire summer for maternity leave, but I'll still have to work. Fiona's going to come by and help as much as she can, but there will be some days where you have to be a man and step up to help, Liam. It won't be so bad," Ian said, catching a glimpse of Liam's expression. "And it'll be helpful in the long-run, when you have kids someday."

"And, thankfully, my boss Allie has made me several appointments at some top-ranking daycare facilities in the area," I reply, and Ian looked pleased with that. "Allie says that most infants have to be six weeks, but three months is more than enough time for development. I just hope separation anxiety doesn't play a factor here, but, somehow, I think it will..."

"It'll all be fine," Ian says, walking over to the table, carrying plates of eggs as I move Liam back to his own seat. "Iana's going to be the best baby that any one of those daycares has ever seen, and they'd all be dying to have her be a part of it."

I shake my head at him. "You do realize that this is your niece that we're talking about here," I say, pointing to my stomach, "and, therefore, there might be a cause for bias?"

Ian smirks at me, spearing a bite of his eggs with his fork. "Just shut up and eat your breakfast, Murphy," he said.

"You are bad," I tell him, picking up my own fork and stabbing my eggs. "You'll never get away with talking to Iana like that, mister."

Ian grins as I pop my breakfast into my mouth, satisfaction in his expression. "I know, but I think I'll love her the best..."

Immediately, I reach out and smack him on the shoulder, swallowing. "Uh, no you will not!" I cry out, putting a hand on my stomach. "Everyone knows that the mother loves her child the best." I hesitate for a moment, watching Ian eat. "Although, it can be said that, at least for a while, you will be the closest thing Iana has to a father..."

Ian looked up at me, fully absorbing my words. "You mean that?"

I nodded. "Of course. You've been to a lot of appointments with me, and you're the one who knows what's going on inside my head ninety percent of the time. You're basically my husband, minus sex and intimate sexual contact... No, actually, you're exactly like a husband, given that they lose interest in sex down the line, due to pregnancy."

Ian grinned. "Well, you know I'm excited I am for this baby," he said. "Just wonder who the baby is going to look like..."

"Well, mister, let's just hope she gets her looks from our side of the family," I said, making sure that Liam was busy on my iPad before I continued. "Besides," I say, lowering my voice, "I don't want to make this more difficult for you than it actually is."

Ian sighed, lowering his eyes to his breakfast, scraping what was left of the eggs from one side of the plate to the other. "I think you and I can definitely agree that this arrangement is pretty fucking complicated, Murph," he replied.

I nodded. "Yeah," I say, forcing myself to chew and swallow another bite. "Listen, if I'd known that there was a remote possibility that I could actually have a child, I would never—"

Ian holds up his hand. "You say you were drunk on tequila shots that night, Murphy, and I believe you—really. But I think there was more at work there."

"More at work?"

He nodded. "Yeah—face it, your whole world had been turned upside down just hours before, and naturally you didn't know what your comfort zone was, given your upbringing. I think that, sometimes, we deliberately seek out the unfamiliar, because of our primal fear of being judged automatically."

"Little did I know who I would find," I muttered, placing my head in my hands. "I'm never going to forgive myself for that, Ian. I just can't."

Ian placed his hand on my arm then, squeezing it gently until I looked up. "Try. What you did wasn't meant to be malicious, Murph. Stop being so hard on yourself."

I smiled at Ian, lowering my fork and placing my hand upon my stomach. "I love this baby," I said quietly. "Maybe she'll just inherit good parts of her father's side of the family, and won't have a flair for trouble..."

Ian grinned. "Oh, we Gallagher's stumble upon trouble more times than not, Murph. Trust me—if she's anything like our side, she'll be trouble. Count on it."

I scoffed then, removing my hand from my stomach and picking up my fork again. "Just promise me one thing, Ian..."

"What?"

I leaned in closer, so that Liam would have a hard time hearing my words. "Try to curb your desire to be a fucking dick all the time," I said, grinning up at him. "Wouldn't want the baby to catch onto it, now would we?"

Ian laughed then, shaking his head and turning back to his eggs. "I'll do my best to behave when the baby arrives."

I shake my head at him. "You better," I replied.

. . .

I returned to work the day after New Year's, and seriously began to consider the notion that I could've been one of the few employees with a decent excuse to be hungover. I arrived at the office with teas for Rachel and Cindy, while nursing my morning smoothie, and they both seemed grateful for the caffeine. I smiled at them in a sympathetic manner as I walked down the hallway towards my office, but was surprised to see that, upon unlocking the door, that it was just a bare room I was looking at.

"Oh, Murphy!" Allie said, coming out of her office. "Rachel or Cindy was supposed to tell me when you were here..."

"Sorry," I replied. "I think they had late night last night. I think I may have seen a bottle of pain killers on Rachel's desk..."

"Poor things. They were up all night networking on the firm's behalf at some exclusive clubs downtown," Allie explained, although we shared a knowing glance at the odds and ends of what networking really meant nowadays.

"So, my office...?" I asked.

"Right! Of course," Allie said, putting an arm around my shoulders and leading me down the hallway, where in between hers and Hugo's offices, was Tim's large office, and another large one next door. "Here we are," she said.

I felt my eyes widen then as we approached, where the door stated, MURPHY GALLAGHER, ASSOCIATE ATTORNEY in large block letters. I shook my head, turning to look at Allie, who simply smiled at me. "What...?" I whispered.

Allie rubbed her hand along my arm. "Come on. Let's go inside," she said, unlocked it quickly and switching on the light, but allowing me inside first. "Hugo and I mentioned the pay raise and the larger office, and over the holidays seemed like the perfect opportunity to work everything out for you."

I looked around then, in awe. The furniture was larger than in my former office, but cherry wood was still the wood used for the desk and book shelves. The walls were also done up in cherry wood, with ornate pillars situated by the windows, which were floor-to-ceiling, and boasted curtains of a deep red hue, and not blinds. There was an impressive, new-model desktop, situated dead-center on my desk, and the high-backed, cherry wood chair had red leather cushions stitched up upon it.

"Allie..." I whispered, turning around to look at her.

"Is it too much? Damn that decorator," she said, whipping out her phone. "You say the word, Murphy, and I'll have that pretty boy back down here in five seconds—"

"No, no, no!" I cried out, stepped forward and snatching Allie's phone out of her hands, before immediately returning it to her. "It's perfect, Allie. Really. I love it."

Allie nodded. "No problem. Now, if it's too early to do so, I understand. But do you have an estimation as to when you're due?"

I nodded. "May twentieth," I replied.

Allie opened her calendar app on her phone. "Great. So, we'll have you working from home starting April twentieth—oh, don't look so alarmed, dear, for yours is considered a high-risk pregnancy due to...the situation," she whispered, which is what she had called my miscarriage from day one. "And then you'll have the entire summer off to coordinate a daycare situation for your little girl. You got the booklets I sent over?"

I nodded. "Yes, and each came with a pre-filled out appointment card. Thankfully, I haven't been double-booked."

"Oh, yes, the employees are very considerate of your time," Allie explained. "And we have you set to return to work in early September?"

I nodded, finding myself automatically touching my stomach, as I so often did whenever the pregnancy was mentioned. "Yes, that's right."

Allie smiled for a moment. "All right. Hugo has already approved the days, so now we just have to get all the authorization paperwork drawn up. Of course, it stipulates in your contract that you'll be making seventy-five percent of your salary if you do go on maternity leave."

I nodded. "Yes, I remember. Thank you."

Allie reached out and took my hand. "How is it going?" she asked, her eyes lowering briefly to my stomach. "The pregnancy, I mean."

I nodded; it was a key question. "It's going," I replied, smiling at her. "I never thought I would ever be pregnant—or, this young when being pregnant." I shrugged. "Hey, I'm twenty-two-years-old..."

"But you've already accomplished so much in your life, Murphy."

I nodded, running my fingers over the surface of my stomach. "I know, and I'm grateful for every opportunity I've been given, don't get me wrong..."

"But?" Allie asked.

I sighed. "I know it's going to be complicated—I'll be a single mother. My family is going to help as much as they can, but..."

"It won't be the same without the father around?"

I felt myself automatically biting my lip. "Exactly."

"Do you have a birth plan?" she asked.

I laughed. "Yeah—don't die. And then there's the whole thing about getting to the hospital quickly enough for an epidural. Since I never got the opportunity to meet my birth mother, I don't have much to go by in terms of birth..."

"Your younger sister, Debbie, has a child, right? Franny, wasn't it?"

I nodded. "Yeah, but Debs was really young—she's still a baby herself. I know that my circumstances couldn't be duplicated, and I wouldn't allow myself to give birth at home, let alone a kitchen table..."

"Goodness," Allie put in. "Anyone going to the hospital with you?"

"Probably my brother, Ian, if he's available," I replied. "He's arranged that entire week off from work in case something happens."

"You two are quite close, aren't you?"

I laughed. "Yeah, I mean, we're twins, so..."

"Is he happy? About the baby?"

I sighed. "It took a bit of getting used to, but I pretty much figured out immediately that he loved and wanted this baby as much as I did..."

"Was he the one familiar with the baby's father?"

I nodded. "Yeah. The father is his ex-boyfriend, so his current boyfriend had a bit of an aversion to it as well, but he came around."

"But you're happy, Murphy? Aren't you?"

I looked up at Allie. "I'm trying to be," I replied, running my hands along my stomach for a moment as I attempted to keep it together. "I mean, I've gotta be, right?"

. . .

"Hey, have room for another Gallagher in here?" I asked as I stepped into Patsy's Pies that afternoon, about an hour before I was due to pick up Liam.

"Hey!" Fiona said, finishing writing something behind the counter and walking around towards me, pulling me into her arms. "You okay today?"

I nodded. "Yeah, I just..." I shrugged as I pulled back, a laugh escaping through my lips. "I just wanted some pie."

"Yeah?" Fiona asked, ushering me to a booth close by the counter. "Well, you sit right there, and I'll take care of you. What flavor?"

I laughed then, feeling immediately at ease. "You got chocolate crème today?"

Fiona pointed at me then, clicking her tongue. "You got it," she said, going behind the counter and into the cooling case. "How was the firm today?"

"It was good. I got some headway done on a big case—research, mostly, since I have the patience to do it—and so Allie let me leave an hour early. Besides," I said as Fiona returned to my table, sitting across from me and setting the pie down, "I haven't seen much of my big sister lately, and figured, why don't I stop in?"

Fiona grinned. "Well, you know I'm always happy to see you, Murphy," she said as I picked up my fork. "So, work's good? Really?"

I nodded. "Yeah. They actually showed me to my new office today."

Fiona raised her eyebrows. "New office?"

I nodded, fishing my phone out of my bed and accessing my gallery app and handing it over to her. "I texted the pictures to Ian during my lunch break," I told her, covering my mouth so that she wouldn't get the unwelcome sight of pie within. "Needless to say, the little bastard called me a sellout..."

Fiona scoffed then, returning my phone to me. "They gave you maternity leave, right?"

I nodded. "They did. I start working from home a month before Iana is born, and then I go back in early September."

"They paying you?"

"Seventy-five percent of what I would make in the firm during office hours," I replied. "I do understand the pay-cut from a logistics point of view, I really do. And, hey, I mean, it's nice that they're still willing to pay me at all."

Fiona reached across the table then, clasping my hand in hers. "You know, you don't need to crave pie just to come in here, you know," she said quietly.

I sighed, squeezing her hand back. "Look, the last time we were alone..." I shook my head. "I was out of line. I shouldn't have said anything about you not being there for me..."

"Don't worry about it."

"I do worry, Fiona," I said, clearing my throat to keep my voice from breaking. "I know that sisters fight over the tears on countless occasions, and I guess since we didn't have that, we want to get them all out of the way before..." I lower my eyes to my stomach. "...before the Gallagher-Milkovich hybrid descends upon us all..."

"You were distraught," Fiona said, her voice gentle. "Hell, I don't know where I would've been in that situation. You were running on little to no sleep, and you had drugs pumping through your system. Your son had fucking died, Murphy. I get it. Really. You have absolutely nothing to apologize for."

I felt myself retreating then, pulling back into myself as I run my hands along my face. "Ugh, I am just so frustrated right now..."

"Why?" Fiona asked. "Work? With Ian or Liam?"

"No," I replied. "They're all great..." I bit my bottom lip hard then, wondering how to address this topic with my sister. "I guess... Can a pregnant woman be sexually frustrated?" I ask, and Fiona and I grin at each other before laughing aloud.

"Sure," she said, trying not to laugh so loud, due to the customers that were around us. "I mean, your hormones get pretty out of whack, don't they?"

I nodded. "All the fucking literature the doctor assigned me says so," I say. "You wouldn't believe how much I've had to read—it's like I'm in fucking college all over again. At least I can keep my books in my room now, and not lug them everywhere with me..."

"Why didn't you just do an eBook or something?"

I laughed aloud. "Well, because I can also use the books as weights. Gotta keep up my cardo, with this one," I say, nodding to my stomach. "All the books say that she'll start moving soon, so that'll be something to look forward to..."

"So, no kicking yet?" Fiona asked, looking at my stomach with sarcastic wariness.

I shook my head. "No. All the books say closer to twenty-five weeks with your first pregnancy, so it should be by the end of the month."

"Well, you look good pregnant," Fiona said. "Maybe you could even get a boyfriend..."

I shuddered then. "No way. All the guys..." I leaned in closer to her then, the disgusted expression fixed on my face. "...the guys who'd be interested want a free meal. That's all they'd want out of this."

Fiona looked surprised. "What? You told the interested ones that I own this place?" she asked, breaking into a grin. "Because all advertising is good advertising!"

I shook my head then, shocked that she didn't get it. "No, I meant... A free meal from _me_ ," I said, hoping she would get it.

"Well, you're a good cook," Fiona replied. "But, they wouldn't think that just because you're an expectant mother that you'd just drop everything and cook for them, right?"

I laughed then, shaking my head at her. "Fi, Fi, Fi. I mean they would want a free meal...direct from the source," I said, whispering the words. "As in, no cooking involved..."

"What?" she demanded, looking at my chest. "You mean...?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Some guys think it's a turn-on. I think it's disgusting. I don't want anyone near my breasts except Iana."

Fiona nodded, attempting to hide her smirk. "Maybe avoid saying that out loud..."

I gave a short nod then. "Yeah, I just heard it in my head, and it's not going over very well," I said, returning to my pie. "How's business here?"

"Good," she replied. "Ever since Sean sold me the place, it's nice to see that I've actually got a head for business..."

"Sean? Your ex-fiancé?" I asked.

Fiona nodded. "Anyone tell you why we didn't get married?"

"Well, I know from Ian that Frank fucked up the wedding, but, in the end, it was for all the right reasons," I said, shrugging my shoulders.

"Sean was a heroin addict," Fiona explained.

"Yeah... Good on Frank for talking some sense into you," I say. "If anything that man spouts could be thought of as sense... I mean, he knew I was pregnant..."

"He knew?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Said I had the same look as Monica when I was about to tell Lip. That's how Frank first met me—pregnant. And by telling me that he knew."

"Knew about you, you mean?"

"Yeah. Lip came in then before I could beat the shit out of him, though, but then he ended up doing that for me after the damned morning sickness came on..."

Fiona sighed. "There were so many times when Frank could've told all of us that you were out there, Murphy..."

I shook my head, spooning some more pie into my mouth. "Don't worry about it. What's done is done. It's in the past..."

Fiona leaned forward. "Well, I'm saying that, if we knew..."

"What could you have done?" I asked, not unkindly. "You wouldn't have been able to take me back until three years ago. I mean, Tina and Dr. Normal fucking hated me, but seeing me actually in a happy living environment? No way."

"But they let you move here..."

"That's because Dr. Normal was sick of me apparently sponging off him—he paid for my clothes and car and its insurance and my books, but that was it. And it was a very small dent in his income."

"You said he found you the position?"

"All of the positions, actually. He wanted me to get a job at the firm he used for potential criminal activity, but Chicago was the firm that wanted me that was the furthest away... You know, Tina actually said that a change of scenery would be nice..."

"And this is before she told you about the adoption?"

I nodded. "Yeah, it was way before—right after midterms, when I did the Skype interview with Allie Torrance. She said... I don't know, something about Chicago being good for me. And then she told me I was adopted, right after graduation. And, I don't know, something told me to get my ass out here, and I did."

"And the rest is history," Fiona said.

I shook my head. "Yeah. I mean, I guess I thought that siblings were a possibility—half-siblings, I guess—but to actually have six siblings..." I shrugged. "I don't know. I guess you could say that I'm amazed."

"We would've looked," Fiona said quietly.

I blinked. "What?"

"If we'd known you were out there we would've looked for you."

I sighed. "Three years ago, things were totally fucked for us, Fiona. Ian had just gotten his diagnosis and was devastated about Mickey's incarceration. Trust me, it's good that you didn't find me then..."

"Maybe, maybe not," Fiona replied. "But I think that, maybe if we'd found you sooner, that Ian would've adjusted better. You're like a half of him, Murphy," she said, reaching across the table again and taking my hand. "The familial half that he never knew he needed, and now that he's got you, I know that he doesn't want you gone."

"I keep telling him I'm not going anywhere," I assure her. "It's hard for us—since we both have shit going on in our minds on a constant basis—to think that we can depend on someone like that on such a deep level. Hell, I never thought I could, and look at me now. I'm surrounded by people who love me and I never thought that was possible."

"Ian's happier, since you got here," Fiona said with a smile. "I think it's because of your being twins that you've managed to develop such a deep understanding of one another. One that would have been developed from inside the womb, and obviously did, and now that you're back together again, it's back."

"Like me," I said with a smile.

Fiona nodded. "Yeah. Like you."

"I just... I wish I could help him understand that I'm not leaving. I've explained it to him, but, I think..."

"What?"

"I obviously can't stay in the house forever," I said with a shrug. "Iana will eventually need her own bedroom, and Josh and I are going to give it a shot to see if we've got something, once she's born..."

"Maybe that's what he's reacting to," Fiona replied. "You ever think of that?"

I shook my head. "No. No, I guess not."

"Houses in our neighborhood go on the market constantly," Fiona replied. "Maybe one will come up, and you can live close by. That way, he'll still feel close to you, and not feel like he's missing out on Iana's childhood."

I smiled. "I'll talk to him about it eventually, but not now. I knows he wants us to stay for a while, but I won't overstay my welcome."

"Hey, you're family, and I'm sure Ian appreciates how some of your salary means that the water and heat and other shit aren't cut off."

"Yeah, because, believe me, if I'm going to work in the morning, you're damn right I'm taking a shower first," I said with a laugh.

"You like showers?" Fiona asked.

I nodded, taking another bite of my pie. "Yeah, especially now. The colostrum's been coming in recently, and it can smell pretty funky if it's not taken care of..."

"That's the stuff that comes in before the milk, right?"

I smiled. "Yeah. They said at some point in your second trimester. There are usually only a few flare-ups a week now, but I have to constantly keep extra clothes on me, in case I leak. And then there's the matter of perfume..."

"Does it hurt?"

I shook my head. "Not really. My breasts are really tender, so hugging is becoming a bit complex, because Liam's at an age where he wants affection, and he thinks hugging is the best way to go about it."

"That's true," Fiona replied.

"And the fact that our brother is gay and I live with him, too, it's a constant hug fest. I love Ian, I really do, and discussing my sexual past is okay, but I don't just want to launch into an overbearing monologue about my boobs being overtly tender. And I also don't know how to approach the subject around Trevor, because he asks me how I'm feeling all the time, and I just don't want to make him uncomfortable either..."

"You'll find a happy medium, Murph. I know you will."

I eat my last bite of pie before checking my phone again. "Shit. I have to pick up Liam in twenty minutes, and that bitch of a principal will have my ass if I'm not there on time."

Fiona smiles. "Understood," she says, getting to her feet and waiting for me to get back to mine before she puts careful arms around me then, not wanting to squeeze me. "You know I'm always here, right?"

I nod, pulling back and smiling at her. "And you know I'm always...wherever I am," I say. "I can kind of be all over the place..."

"Gallagher's never sleep," she says, squeezing my shoulder. "Go grab Liam. I'll come over later this week for dinner or something, yeah?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Deb's coming over, so extend an invitation to Lip, too. I want the baby to hear all of your voices so, when she gets here, she can remember."

Fiona laughed. "Does it work that way?"

I shrugged. "Who the hell knows? Not me...yet," I call over my shoulder, before exiting the diner and making my way to my car.


	9. Ashes to Ashes

Chapter Nine: Ashes to Ashes

I walked into the conference room that Friday morning in the third week of January, armed with my research on our latest case on Jackie Farris, an heiress who was under investigation for the murder of her wealthy grandfather. Jackie's father, Paul Farris, was the executor of Johnson Farris' estate, but Paul had a rock-solid alibi, and couldn't have been the murderer. I sat down in my usual spot, chewing my dried cranberries, and waited for Nicholas to arrive so we could go over strategy for the case.

Opening arguments had been set for the first week of September, so my research, at this point, was preliminary, but, I reasoned, far more detailed than necessary. Even though I enjoyed peppering the biographies with my own personal vocabulary, I had soon come to realize that simplicity was best when it came right down to it, and I found that Nicholas could sometimes grow annoyed with my words.

"Hope you slept well last night," Nicholas said by way of greeting as he walked into the conference room with that confident flair of his, "because you and I are not leaving this room until our strategy discussion is exhausted."

I pursed my lips, looking up from my notes. "And tell me again who decided to start strategy planning eight months before the trial?" I ask him.

Nicholas smirks, sitting across from me. "You know as well as I do that we wouldn't start for another few weeks, but one of us is having a baby, and won't be on-hand as much. This way, you have less work to do in the future, meaning that you'll have more bonding time with whatever name you've decided for the baby."

"Iana," I said, tapping my pen impatiently against my stack of papers. "I told you that. I told the whole office that."

"Yeah, right. After your brother."

"Both my brothers," I reply, rolling my eyes before turning back to my notes. "I told you this. I told you my daughter's name is going to be Iana Phillipa Gallagher."

"But just the way it's pronounced—Ee-Ana—it's like you're stretching something to the point of it being unnatural," he replied.

I roll my eyes at him again. "Well, I'm sure if it were up to you, I'd name her something snobby, like Nicole or something..."

Nicholas smirked. "I'm not impartial to it."

I let out a sigh of exasperation, turning the page in my notes. "How's Jasmine?"

Nicholas's smile faded as he pulled his laptop out of his bag, signing in before opening a new Word document and typing up some notes himself. "Yeah, she's fine," he replied. "She's modeling right now, so that's something..."

I nodded. "That is something," I replied. "Does she like it?"

He nodded back. "She seems to enjoy it, although I wish she wouldn't drink as many cocktails at the parties we go to. I'm afraid she's getting too dependent."

"I know what you mean."

He looks up. "Do you?"

"Yeah, my... My biological father, Frank, is an alcoholic, and my brother, Lip, is, too. I had some of the symptoms when I first moved here—drinking too much and relying on that fuzzy feeling you get after the fact." I shrugged. "Thank god for pregnancy, because I don't know what I would've done if I didn't have a reason to stop."

"But you did stop, right?"

"Yeah, once I confirmed the pregnancy," I replied. "The doctors have said that the drinking wasn't so much that it hurt the baby. I'm just relieved that I found out before permanent damage was done, you know?"

Nicholas nodded. "Yeah, I know."

I lowered my pen then for a moment, wanting to figure something out that I had long been questioning. "What are you so afraid of?" I asked, quietly.

He raised his eyes to mine. "Afraid?" he asked, scoffing. "I'm not afraid of anything, Murphy. I mean, I'm a man, and we're not expected to be afraid."

I shake my head at him. "What fucker told you that? If you're human, you're afraid of something, Nicholas. That's the truth."

He sighed. "I don't know. I mean, I guess you could say that, because of my upbringing, I never want to have a family."

I blinked. "Never?"

He shook his head. "No. I mean, it's not something I've ever wanted for myself, and given how my dad was with my mother..."

Without thinking, I reach across the table then, and we mutually find that our breath is sucked in when I grip his hand in mine. "You're not your dad, Nicholas."

He hesitates for a moment before withdrawing his hand from mine. "So I've been told," he replies, shifting backwards, obviously intending to be at arms'-length.

"I'm not either of my parents, and I wasn't raised by either of them," I say quietly. "I had to wait three months for a family that ended up not wanting me in the first place. And yes, I was always afraid of the notion of being close to someone, but I conquered that fear, Nicholas, I did. And when I realized I was pregnant..." I lifted my shoulders then, not knowing what he wanted me to say at this point. "...I jumped at the opportunity."

He shook his head. "I don't know. Hugo and Allie could forgive what I did in my past... I mean, juvie records are usually wiped clean or sealed after a while..."

"Yeah?" I ask him. "You've been to juvie?"

"A few times—I was careful not to do anything after eighteen, and then when I did hit eighteen, I went to military school."

"Military school?"

"Yeah, and they sent me to Afghanistan where I did two back-to-back tours. When I came back, I was twenty-one, and I went to law school."

I lowered my eyes to my notes then. "So, you know how to fight?"

Nicholas nodded. "You could say that."

"Ever kill anyone?"

He sighed. "Unfortunately, yes."

"And juvie?" I asked, not knowing how to pose the question. "How'd that happen?"

"Destruction of property, at first. Graffiti," he said quietly. "Saw it as an act of rebellion. And then it escalated to robbery, and then assault..."

"Assault?" I asked.

He sighed. "Yeah. I was the security guard, I guess you could say, for all the thugs. If they needed someone beaten up, I found out where, when, and why and, once I did it, got a few hundred bucks for it."

"Jesus," I whispered.

"Never women—I drew the line there. And they had to be close to my age and close to my build—I always wanted a fair fight."

"Ever kill anyone that way?"

"Almost—that's what landed me in juvie the last time. I worked the program that time, instead of against it, and then they let me out early. Mom and Dad pulled some strings and got me into the military academy, and the rest was history."

"Think it did any good?" I ask.

Nicholas sighed. "Well, I'll never know what I would've turned into, if I didn't get out of that lifestyle," he replied. "And I became a man my parents could be proud of, so that was something, in the end..."

"And you?"

"What about me?"

"Are you proud of yourself?" I asked.

He shrugged. "Have to be," he replied. "I fought for our country, and I'm passionate about the whole thing, I guess. But would I go back? No. I prefer fighting these kinds of legal battles at home, than I do lifting up a machine gun and opening fire."

I lowered my eyes. "Well, the war at home will always need you, Nicholas."

"That's what I assumed when I went to law school," he replied.

. . .

Nicholas had mercy on me in the early hours of mid-afternoon, and allowed me to leave our meeting early so that I could pick Liam up from school. I drove down the main streets of downtown on that sunless day, and knew that, once the sun returned at full-throttle, then I could begin counting the days for when Iana would grace us with her presence. Of course, I'd done that immediately once the dust had settled on Mickey being her father, and when I'd received Ian's blessing to keep her, but, somehow, in the weeks that had passed since Christmas when I realized she was a girl, I found myself a lot more at ease.

I parked in the lot of Liam's school and got out, making my way onto the playground and to where all the other parents were waiting. I didn't stand with anyone in particular, just in an obvious place so that Liam would see me when he got out of school. Once the doors opened and the children came out at the run, I caught sight of him in the crowd, relief flowing through me at how pleased he was to see me. When he got closer I bent down then to hug him properly, and he hugged me back, hard, and I kissed his forehead before reverting to my standing position, taking his backpack and his hand.

"Hey, little man," I said as I walked him to my car. "Did you have a good day?"

"Yeah," he replied. "What's for dinner?"

I smiled. "I'm making a chicken later, and Ian's going to make some potatoes and you, young man, are going to eat the green beans tonight."

Liam sighed. "Okay."

"But, I'm making cookies when we get home," I said as I unlocked my car, waiting for him to get into his booster seat before handing him his backpack.

Liam looked suspicious at that. "Why?"

I smiled, kissing his forehead again before getting into the car. "Well, because it's Friday, and Ian's coming home early," I replied. "And, because you got that A+ on your latest book report, of course," I said indulgently.

"Really?" he asked.

"Really," I replied, settling myself into my own seat and making sure we were both buckled up before I started the car. "And the family's coming over tonight."

"Who's coming?"

"Fiona, Lip, Debbie, and Franny," I replied.

Liam smiled as we pulled out of the parking lot. "Yay!" he cried, clapping his hands. "I want to read them my book report."

"I'm sure they'd love that," I tell him, stopping at the first traffic light. "What's the homework situation for this weekend?"

"Read more of my book, math problems, and I have to write a story," he replied.

"Well, doesn't that sound like fun?" I say, pulling through the light once it turned green. "Did your teacher say what the story should be about?"

Liam shook his head. "No. But it's not due until Easter."

"Oh," I said, thinking that it was an odd thing to assign so early before its due date. "Well, then maybe we can think up some ideas, and try to work out what you want it to be about by Valentine's Day. Okay?"

Liam nodded. "Okay."

We drove the rest of the way home, with me listening to Liam about the latest classroom gossip about how Suzie Nelson had told Geoffrey Lewis that she did _not_ like him. Liam was animated in his storytelling, and was adamant that Suzie had a crush on Otto Sturgess, but that the whole thing was gross because girls had cooties.

I smirked in the front seat. "Where did Suzie tell Geoffrey this?" I ask.

"On the playground, after lunch," Liam replied offhandedly. "She was annoyed because Geoffrey always offered Suzie his Jell-O."

"What's wrong with that?" I ask.

"Geoffrey always offers Suzie his orange Jell-O, and Suzie is allergic to citrus," Liam explained in a patient manner.

I raised my eyebrows. "But Geoffrey's not doing it to be mean?"

"She said he didn't remember anything she ever told him."

"Oh," I said, understanding now. "And Otto remembers things?"

"Yes," Liam replied. "Otto knows that Suzie likes strawberry Jell-O."

When we arrived home, I gave Liam permission to watch cartoons while I began to prepare dinner that evening, wandering around the kitchen to make sure I remembered where everything was lurking. I was relieved when Ian came in around five, and got to work with helping me with the potatoes and green beans. I turned every now and then to Liam, who was now multi-tasking with his math problems in his lap, while watching some monster movie in the background as Ian and I cooked.

"Trevor coming tonight?" I asked Ian.

Ian nodded. "Yeah. He said he might stop by later."

"Cool," I replied, opening the oven to baste the chicken before shoving it back in. "Liam ever tell you about Suzie Nelson?"

"And Geoffrey Lewis?" Ian asked.

I nodded. "Yeah."

Ian grinned. "Pretty much every day. It's like a goddamned soap opera or something..."

I shrugged. "Nicholas's life is a fucking soap opera, man..."

"Really?" Ian asked. "I thought that was over?"

I shrugged. "I mean, Josh and I are thinking about going out after Iana's born, and Nicholas is dating Jasmine, a former star witness of ours, but..."

"But?"

I tried to push the topic away. "I-I don't know. I can't deny that there's something there, lurking beneath the surface, but I don't think either one of us wants to be the one to address it. Besides, there's our pasts to consider, plus his record..."

"Whoa, whoa. Nicholas has a record?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Went to juvie a handful of times before he went into the army. Did two tours in Afghanistan before he came back and went to law school."

"Are you having trouble deciding between Nicholas and Josh?"

"I guess, on a shallow level, yeah..."

Ian made a face, turning back to the stove to check and see if the potatoes were softening. "How is any of this shallow?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe because one of them is practical—good job, no record—and the other one I have major chemistry with and yet he's got a record and he doesn't seem to want to have kids..."

"But Iana's not his kid."

I crossed my arms, waiting for Ian to turn around before I continued. "That's not the point, and you know that, Ian. The point is that I can't just throw Iana away—one girl did that and got charged with manslaughter. I'm not throwing my daughter away—even if Monica did that to me, I won't repeat history by doing it to Iana."

Ian nodded. "You're right. She shouldn't have done that."

I shrugged. "Can't be helped now. The good thing is, I've got all of you around me to love and support me through single motherhood."

Ian smiled. "Of course. We're here for you, Murphy."

I hesitated for a moment, leaning up against the counter as I watched Ian for a moment, reluctant to say what I had to say. "And you know I'm here, right?"

Ian looked up at me. "What? Of course I know, Murphy."

I sighed. "Well, I think you might think I'm leaving..."

Ian turned to face me fully then, his eyebrows knitting together. "Well, I would be lying if I said I didn't dread the day you move out."

I gave a slight nod to that. "So, you understand that day is coming eventually?"

Ian nodded. "Of course."

I stepped forward then, putting my arms around him. "Listen to me—Fiona gave me a very good piece of advice."

"What's that?"

"Well, she said that these houses around here go up for sale every now and again. And I figured that, maybe, in a couple of years, I could move into one..."

Ian pulled back then, his eyes wide. "You mean, you'd stay in the neighborhood? You wouldn't get some hoity-toity apartment?"

I shook my head. "No. These are where my roots are, Ian, and I'm not going to run away from who I am anymore. I'm not."

Ian smiled. "So, what are you saying, Murphy?"

I smiled back at him. "I'm saying I belong here. I'm saying I'm a fucking Gallagher, and that's not ever going to change." I gasped aloud then, my eyes going as wide as Ian's, as I immediately put a hand to my stomach.

"Murph? What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I whispered, raising my eyes to Ian's as mine filled with tears. "Nothing's wrong at all. Just...just feel," I say, moving his hand to my stomach, and Ian lets out a small gasp then before he laughs.

"Oh, my god..."

"She knows," I whispered, and Ian looked up at me.

"What does Iana know?"

"Iana knows she's a Gallagher, too," I whisper. I let out a small laugh then, as Iana does small, little flips around inside me. "I can't believe it..."

"It's pretty amazing," Ian replies, bending down. "Iana? Can you hear me? This is your Uncle Ian—closest thing you'll have to a dad for a while."

I gently smacked Ian in the arm, and let out another gasp then, as a swift kick was delivered to my gut, which Ian felt as well. "Man—I get the point, Iana!" I said, rolling my eyes. "I won't hit Uncle Ian again, okay? I promise."

"Does that go for us, too?"

Turning, I see that Fiona, Lip, Debbie, and Franny have all trooped into the house. "Lip, I don't think we need to play 'May the best Gallagher win'...at least, not until I'm recovered from my childbirth," I said with a laugh.

"You two look happy," Fiona said, stepping into the kitchen and putting a chocolate crème pie onto the table, which immediately made my mouth water. "What's going on?"

"The baby moved," Ian said, grinning from ear to ear.

"What?" Fiona demanded, charging forward and placing her hands on my stomach. "Can I talk to her, Murphy?"

"Please," I replied.

"Hi, Iana," Fiona said, her voice soothing. "This is your Aunt Fiona. We all love you so much and we can't wait to meet you."

"Ow! Dammit," I cried out, as I was given another kick in my abdomen. "Jesus, what is it with us Gallagher's that makes us so goddamn attractive?"

"My turn," Debbie said, and Fiona moved to sit with Liam as Debbie and Franny knelt in front of me then. "Hi, baby," my younger sister said fondly. "This is your Aunt Debbie," she went on, touching my stomach, and motioning for Franny to do the same, "and your Cousin Franny. We are so excited about you coming. Get here soon, okay?"

I laughed then, the sound quickly turning into a groan as Iana kicked out at Debbie and Franny's hands before Lip stepped up to the plate. "More people for you to meet," I said quietly to her as Lip knelt down.

"Hey, Iana," he said, placing a hand on my stomach. "This is your Uncle Lip. Um... We're all excited about you being here, in Murphy's stomach and we know that you'll be the best-looking baby in all Gallagher history."

"Hey!" Fiona, Ian, Debbie, and Liam said.

"Sorry," Lip said with a chuckle, turning back to my stomach. "Anyway, just know that you've got a big family that loves you, okay Iana?"

"Jesus," I whispered then, as Iana kicked harder than she ever had before, and more than once, as she went to town on the base of my ribs. "Ow, dammit," I said, laughing.

"You okay?" Ian asked, immediately stepping in as Lip stood back.

I nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine," I said, placing a firm hand on my stomach. "Dammit, Iana, please—don't break it. You'll have to buy it." I walked over to the stove then, to check the progress on the chicken, sticking the meat thermometer into a thick portion of the breast. "Just a few more minutes on this, I think," I said to Ian.

"So," he said as I turned around to face him, "thoughts?"

I crossed my arms. "About?"

"Josh or Nicholas?" he asked.

I smiled. "Well, I guess the easy answer is, I don't know," I replied. "Fact is, neither one of them has turned me off completely..."

"But?"

"But I think Nicholas is pretty committed to Jasmine, and the fact that he doesn't want kids or a family in his life..."

"And his record?"

I shook my head at him. "That isn't a problem for me. He's been plenty mad at me before, and he's never hit me..."

"Wait. His charges were for assault?"

"The later ones, yeah."

"Shit," Ian replies. "If he every lays a hand on you—"

"He _won't_ ," I said firmly, placing my hands on Ian's arms. "And, if he does, I'll fuck him up worse than he'll ever fuck me up. Trust me."

"But he had army training, Murph. You can't mess with that shit."

I shake my head. "No, you're right, you can't. But I know all about being unassuming—making people think I'm a weakling, when I'm not."

Ian nodded. "Just...be careful..."

I leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. "I have Iana to think about now, Ian—and then there's the rest of you," I said quietly.

"Yeah, the rest of us," Ian said.

I smiled at him, shaking my head. "What are we going to do with you, Ian Gallagher? One false move and your twin gets out of line..."

"That's not going to fucking happen," Ian said, his voice firm. "Nothing is going to happen to you, Murph, because if Nicholas lays one hand on you, he's a fucking dead man."

"A dead man? What'd I miss?" Trevor asks, walking in the front door.

I turn to Ian. "Your plan. Why don't you take this one?" I ask him sweetly, turning back towards the oven to check the chicken.

"What just happened?" Trevor asked Ian.

"What just happened is the baby's moving," I replied before Trevor could speak, as I placed the chicken on the stove, shutting off the oven, and removing the mits. "Want to see if she'll move for you?" I asked, turning to face him.

"Sure, yeah," Trevor said, stepping forward with a smile. "Hey in there, Iana," he said. "I'm Trevor—I'm your Uncle Ian's boyfriend. I guess you'll be seeing a lot of me once you get out here into the world. Nice to meet you."

"Whoa," I said when Iana punched me then, shocking Trevor. "I think that was a love punch, but we'll have to see..."

Trevor grinned at that before turning to Ian. "So, who's going to be a dead man?"

"Nicholas as a record of assaults," Ian said quietly, his tone heated. "And I merely said if he lays a hand on Murphy, he's dead."

"Oh, completely," Trevor said. "But you've got to let the system do its job, Ian. Don't go getting yourself arrested."

"I'd listen to him if I were you," I said, patting Ian on the shoulder before going to save the potatoes that had been left to their own devices.

. . .

It was a relief, somehow, not to have Nicholas engage me in potentially shocking personal conversations for the next couple of weeks. I had another scan coming up in the progress of my pregnancy, which was always something to look forward to, as I carried Iana closer and closer to her due date. Sometimes, I just found myself sitting, for moments at a time, hand on my stomach, just whispering to her about how much I loved her and how excited I was for her arrival.

On Valentine's Day, after spending a sleepless night going over Liam's class list and writing down their names in the valentine cards—and preparing snacks for the class—I arrived at the office, clutching a smoothie and teas for Rachel and Cindy. Going towards my office, I felt relieved for the orthopedic soles within my heels, which gave me some much needed back support as my pregnancy continued. I'd had a text from Allie that morning, telling me she was spending it with Charlotte but would be in around noon to touch base about the Jackie Farris case with me and with Nicholas.

I opened my office door then, and, as I flipped on the light, I felt my eyes nearly popping out of my head at what I saw. Beautiful bouquets of red roses—my favorite flowers—were in crystal-cut vases of varying sizes throughout my office. My desk boasted the largest vase, which had a card among the petals, as well as a large, red, heart-shaped, box, of what I assumed were chocolates, adorned with a pink bow. Smiling to myself, I crossed the room—leaving my door open as usual—and went to the card, which had my name written in elegant handwriting along the outside surface.

I plucked it from the petals of the roses—relieved when they didn't merely fall apart at my touch—and opened the card. It was an expensive Valentine's Day card, and although I knew the inside poem would likely be a sappy one, written by a starving grad student, I didn't care. The gesture was sweet, and I wondered who had gone out on a limb for me like this.

 _Dear Murphy, just wanted to reach out again and reiterate my promise to you that I made just last month when we saw each other last. I do intend to see where things go with you once Iana is born, although it does not mean we cannot speak now. I hope we can get together, as friends for now, if that is what you prefer, in the coming weeks to catch up. Let me know when your schedule, and your decision-making, permits._

 _A very happy Valentine's Day to the most beautiful mother I know._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Josh_

I smiled to myself for, despite the stereotypical gesture, it was all very sweet, and I found the scent of roses to be calming to me. Smiling to myself, I pulled at the ribbon on the box of chocolates and tasted one, relieved that they weren't some gourmet brand and instead were one of those simple ones.

"What happened in here?"

Turning, I saw Nicholas, hovering in my doorway, clearly overwhelmed as he held onto some paperwork. "Just some sentiments from an admirer," I replied.

Nicholas gave a short nod. "May I ask who?"

I laughed. "May I ask why you care?"

Nicholas sighed. "You don't have to tell me, Murphy. It was just a question."

"If you must know, all this is from Josh Fairfax."

"Dr. Joshua Fairfax?" Nicholas demanded, his voice becoming unhinged.

I nodded, perplexed by his reaction. "Yeah. Do you know him?"

Nicholas sighed, clearly angry. "Yeah," he said, shifting his paperwork closer to him before he backed out of my office completely. "Yeah, I know him," he went on, before walking down the hall, presumably towards his office.

Shocked, I immediately reached for my phone as it began ringing, and felt automatic relief when I saw who it was. "Hey," I said.

"Hey. Why do I get the feeling something's wrong?" Ian asked.

I sighed. "Not wrong, so much as confusing."

"Oh, yeah? What happened?"

I bit my lip. "Well, Josh kind of arranged for a few dozen red roses, plus a card and a box of chocolates, to be in my office when I got here..."

"How is that confusing? Clearly, the man likes you..."

I shook my head. "Not Josh—he's not confusing. It's Nicholas."

"What'd that blowhard do now?"

"Hey, be nice," I scolded. "He... I don't know. He looked pretty angry when he came in here and saw everything... And when I told him it was Josh...he looked enraged..."

"Nicholas Blomqvist looked enraged when Josh showed you attention?"

"Yes."

"Clearly he thought he'd marked his territory with you, Murphy," Ian said gently. "I wouldn't worry about it."

"Clearly, these two men have a history," I replied, trying to keep my voice even, "and I want to know what it is."


	10. From Now On

Chapter Ten: From Now On

The blackness of oblivion greeted me as I got into bed, curling up against the special pregnancy pillow that Fiona had bought for me. All the doctors I'd come into contact with—as well as some self-proclaimed childcare and child-rearing experts—had told me that sleeping on your stomach and back during advanced stages of pregnancy were considered taboo, and I wasn't going to be accused of negligence before Iana was even born. I felt my hand slipping to my stomach in an almost automatic gesture then, as I lay there in the darkness, and stroked the stomach, and Iana rewarded me with flipping around inside me.

"Hi, baby," I whispered, hoping that she thought my voice didn't sound like a ship horn or something equally unattractive. "It's Mommy. I love you," I said quietly, the last of my consciousness leaving me then as my eyes grew heavy and I found my body finally allowed itself to succumb to sleep.

. . .

I went downstairs that first weekend in March feeling more energized than I had in a long time, despite the growth that had developed between my hip bones. Smirking to myself, I was pleased that my tank top still managed to hold everything in place as I trudged downstairs, managing not to trip on the bottoms of my pajama pants as I stepped into the kitchen. Looking around, I quickly saw that Liam was sitting on the couch, watching T.V. with the sound on low, despite the fact that it was close to ten o'clock.

"Hey, little man," I said, bending down over the couch and kissing his forehead. "You sleep well last night?"

"Yes," he replied.

I quickly noticed that the telltale signs that Liam had gotten himself breakfast were strangely absent from the kitchen—there wasn't an upturned box of cereal or spilled milk that greeted my eyes, and I was pleased that he had, somehow, waited. "Did you have breakfast yet, sweetie?" I asked him, instead of asking him about the lack of the mess.

"No," he said. "I didn't want cereal."

I smiled at that. "Well, Iana's craving pancakes this morning," I said, and Liam immediately looked interested, as he often did whenever I brought up Iana. "Do you think we should make her pancakes, Liam?"

"Yes!" Liam cried.

I grinned. "All right, then. Maybe the smell will wake up Ian..."

I walked into the kitchen, Liam at my heels, getting out a bowl, flour, and instructing Liam to fetch the milk and eggs from the fridge, while I reached up onto a high shelf to get the vanilla. "I hope you didn't get lost in there," I joked to Liam.

"Hey, Murph, what are you doing?"

Turning around, the vanilla in hand, I saw that Ian had emerged from upstairs. "Good morning to you, too," I replied, smiling at him, automatically pulling him into a hug. "Liam and I are making pancakes for Iana," I explained.

"Oh, really?" Ian asked, watching as Liam brought me the milk and eggs, but quickly took the latter to make sure he didn't drop them too hard onto the counter. "Iana wants pancakes? It doesn't have anything to do with your craving them?"

I shrugged. "Maybe," I replied. "Maybe not."

Ian smirked. "You are such a bad liar, Murphy!" he said, grabbing me then, and pinning me against him, tickling me. "Give it up! You just want pancakes!"

"Dammit, Ian!" I cried, laughing aloud. "Stop it!"

Ian laughed back before letting me go. "I've got a better idea, anyway. Let's go see Fiona at the diner for breakfast."

I raised an eyebrow, moving a more appropriate distance away, and using Liam for a human shield if need be. "Yeah?" I asked.

"Yeah. That way, we don't get stuck with a dirty kitchen."

I crossed my arms. "Fine," I grumbled, grinning at Ian so that he would know I was being sarcastic with him. "But I'm buying. I don't care that it was your idea—it's my goddamn craving, and I'm paying for it."

Ian sighed. "All right, but I get to drive."

"Fine," I said, pulling Liam after me, "but I'm getting Liam dressed."

"Maybe I want to do it today," Ian said, attempting to scoop Liam up. "You want me to get you dressed today, don't you Liam!"

"No!" Liam cried, turning around to face me. "I want Murphy! Murphy!"

I gave Ian a mock-smug expression. "All right, we heard you," I said, reaching for him, while Ian gave him an annoyed expression.

"Traitor," he replied.

I rolled my eyes, returning Liam to the ground as he ran for the stairs. "Now, who shall we get ready first? You or me?" I ask him as we walked upstairs together.

"You!" he said.

I smiled down at him. "Okay," I said as we walked to my bedroom.

I set Liam on my bed—which I had already made—before shutting the door behind me. I walked over towards my closet, which was always bursting with clothes at the best of times, and I had, of course, accumulated much more, due to my pregnancy. I had separated work clothes from the casual ones, and showed Liam the side of my closet of appropriate clothes for that day. I watched as Liam looked them over, before pointing to a dress.

"That one!" he proclaimed.

I smiled, pulling out the green sweater dress that seemed perfect for the overcast day. I told Liam that I could pair it with leggings or tights, and he indicated a pair of my black sweater tights, paired with my brown, knee-high boots. I nodded, approving of his choice, as I turned back to him for a moment. "Now, what do we do?"

"Cover our eyes!" Liam said.

I nodded. "That's right. Go ahead now." I smiled as Liam dutifully covered his eyes as I slipped out of my nightwear and into a bra and a pair of panties, before putting on deodorant. "Soon now, my sweet," I called to him, getting on my tights in a quick manner before I got the dress over my head and began straightening it out. "Okay, Liam. You can look now," I said as I put on the matching, thin brown belt that went just beneath my breasts.

"Pretty!" Liam replied.

I rolled my eyes. "Thank you," I replied, walking over to sit next to him on my bed, pulling up and zipping my boots. "Ian's probably almost ready now," I said, running a brush through my hair—I had brushed my teeth before going downstairs the first time. "Why don't we hurry up and put you into something now, okay?"

"Okay!" Liam said, taking me by the hand and pulling me towards the door, while I managed to grab my phone and slip it into my purse. "We're going, we're going!" I said, a laugh escaping me as we walked down the hall towards his bedroom.

"What should I wear, Murphy?" he asked.

"Well, let's see," I said, walking over to his closet and opening the doors. "We could do some corduroys and a sweater, or a button-down shirt and jeans... What do you feel like wearing today, Liam?" I asked.

"The first one," Liam replied.

"All right," I said, getting out a pair of brown corduroy pants and a blue sweater out of his closet, and a short-sleeved, white shirt out to go underneath the sweater. "Let's get you into these," I said as Liam removed his pajamas and I held out his clothes. I smiled as he did his best to put them on by himself, and I only ended up having to straighten them a bit. "Let's get you some nice socks and a pair of shoes, okay?" I went on, finding a pair of patterned socks in his dresser, along with a pair of brown loafers I'd bought him for Christmas.

"I like these," he said, stepping into the shoes when it was time and clicking the heels together while smiling up at me. "There's no place like home."

I nodded, pulling him into my arms and kissing his forehead. "That's exactly right, little man," I told him, turning around at the footsteps that approached, and smiled when I got a good look at Ian. "Hey," I said.

Ian rolled his eyes sarcastically. "Why does he always look so much better when you end up dressing him?" he asked.

I put my hands on my hips. "Maybe it's because I have a better fashion sense than you," I said, my face breaking into a grin at his expression.

"You're bad," he said, reaching out for my keys, which I handed to him. "Okay. I texted Fiona, let her know we were on our way. You guys ready?"

I nodded. "I'm ready. You, Liam?"

"Pancakes!" Liam cried out.

I turned to Ian then, smiling at him. "I guess that means 'yes'."

We went downstairs and out the front door, locking up behind us before we made our way to my car, which Ian got in and started quickly, while I stood back to see if Liam needed any help with his booster seat. Once it was determined that he did not, I slipped into the passenger seat and we went off down the street. I smiled then, the feeling of Iana doing flips in my stomach at the notion of pancakes becoming true for her immediate future not lost on me as we got closer to our destination of the diner.

"Feeling okay?" Ian asked. "Not getting car sick?"

I smirked. "You drive fine, Ian. Really."

"And Iana? Is she behaving this morning?"

I smiled, running my hands along the surface of my stomach. "Yes."

"No more kicks to the ribcage or anything like that?"

"You know, not really," I reply. "Not really. But, as you know, she has very good hearing, and I think she inherited Lip's and my intelligence—and hell, maybe even Debbie's—because she seems to take her cues from whoever is talking." I gasped then, as my hand was given a swift kick to the gut. "See what I mean?"

Ian grinned. "Sorry."

"Unless you want to be on round-the-clock diaper duty for the first month, mister, you seriously need to curb your ability to discuss her movements directly around her."

Ian nodded. "Point taken."

We arrived at the diner shortly thereafter and, after finding a parking space, stepped inside, with Fiona greeting us at the door enthusiastically. "Hey!" she said, hugging us all in turn before showing us to a booth. "What are you hungry for?"

"Iana wants pancakes," Liam said quickly.

"Really?" Fiona asked, running her hands along Liam's head for a moment. "Well, we'll just have to see about that, won't we?" She turned to me then, taking out her order pad. "Will those be with chocolate chips and whipped cream?"

I grinned up at her. "Yes," I replied.

"I'll get those going for you. And sliced bananas for yours, Liam?"

"Yes, please, Fiona," he said.

"What about you, Ian?" Fiona asked.

"Bacon and eggs is fine with me," Ian said.

I rolled my eyes as Fiona took our menus and stepped towards the kitchen, hollering back the orders quickly. "You just wanted to come here because I can't stand the sight of bacon in the house," I said, flashing him a grin.

"You don't like bacon, Murphy?" Liam asked.

I reached across the table and held Liam's hand. "Not really, little man, no. And since I'm pregnant... Well, women's senses become even more sensitive during this time."

"How?" Liam wanted to know.

"Well, let's say they liked something before, but now they don't like it," Ian explained, and Liam still looked confused. "Bacon makes Murphy sick," he went on.

"How does it make you sick?"

I smiled. "Well, the notion of me eating it—the taste—makes me feel gross," I said, making a funny face to make Liam laugh, which worked.

"Do you mind if Ian eats it?" he asked.

"I'm getting used to it," I replied, laying my head on Ian's shoulder. "He just has to keep breath mints on him at all times now..."

"Why?" Liam asked.

"Well, because, when you're twins with someone," Ian said, putting an arm casually around my shoulders, "you're closer than a lot of other people are. For example, Murphy's also my best friend, so it's sort of like we're best friends and brother and sister."

"So, she's your _best_ -best friend?" Liam asked.

"Hey, you're an awesome little brother," Ian said quickly.

"And Iana loves you," I told him, which made his dark eyes shine with pride. "She was just telling me last night how excited she is to meet you."

Liam hesitated for a moment, staring at the surface of the table. "You said you're going to need my help with her..."

I nodded, running my thumb across his hand. "That's right."

"I'll still be working a lot," Ian said carefully. "So, it'll be up to you to be the man of the house and help Murphy with whatever she needs."

Liam looked up then. "Will I be able to hold her?" he asked.

I laughed aloud then, wondering why he seemed so worried to ask me a question like that. "Of course you'll be able to hold her, Liam," I replied. "But, I'm sure you know that you've got to be very gentle."

Liam nodded. "I know."

"And you'll have to sit on the couch with Iana," Ian said quickly, and I smiled at the notion that he already knew my parameters.

"Surrounded by pillows," I added.

"Sounds like fun!" Liam cried out, clapping his hands.

I nodded then, straightening up then as Fiona brought us some ice waters. "I'm glad you think so, little man," I said quietly. "I'm glad you think so."

. . .

"You want to throw me a _what_?!" I demand then, walking into work on the second Monday in March, my godforsaken heels clicking on the marble floors, which had the capability of being brutal in the wintertime, due to some people tracking snow inside the building. "I'm just walking into work right now, Debs," I said, pulling my bag up higher on my shoulder, gritting my teeth as its weight cut into me, "so you need to make this quick. Hi!" I said, waving and whispering to Rachel and Cindy as I walked by, towards my office.

"A baby shower," Debbie replied, deliberately speaking slowly, which made me roll my eyes as I walked down the hallway, towards my office.

"Debs, listen to me," I said, attempting not to sound too terribly annoyed with her, "I have a high-profile case with research that's only half done. I only have another month and a half until I start my maternity leave. Oh, and, to top it all off, I am thirty weeks pregnant!" I cried out, and stepped into my office, shutting the door behind me. "I have a lot of shit to take care of, Debbie, and I love you, and you're an amazing sister, but I really don't think—"

"Fiona and I are taking care of everything," Debbie assured me.

I held my phone away from my ear and swearing under my breath as I approached my desk, setting my bag down on the chair, and feeling instant relief flowing through my shoulder muscles in the following seconds. "You don't have anything to worry about."

"Debs, there's food and decorations to consider—"

"Fiona's doing all that, and I'm doing the invitations," Debbie said, her voice efficient as she's cutting across me. "Now, what I need from you is—"

"Me?!" I demanded then, walking over to my window and yanking open the curtains, the sun just managing to get through the clouds to illuminate the Chicago skyline. "Debs, I didn't even want a gender reveal party, and you twisted my arm on that, but a fucking baby shower—"

"Murph, breathe," Debbie said, her voice firm.

I inhaled and exhaled then, particles of my stress leaving my body and exiting the room through the ventilation system. "Thanks," I said, my tone clipped.

" _All_ I need from you," Debbie said, and I momentarily rolled my eyes at her persuasive attitude towards all this, "is a brief list of names of people you'd like to be there; whether or not you want it to be co-ed; and any rules you may want me and Fi to follow."

I rolled my eyes. "What about the rule where I say: No fucking way am I having a baby shower, Debbie Gallagher?!" I demanded.

Debbie tutted on the other end of the phone. "Come _on_ , Murph!" she said, begging me now, and I knew full well she was working on her pouting face on the other end of the phone. "Me and Fi will do everything we can to make sure the day goes well."

"Oh, okay, fine," I grumbled, trudging back to my best and slamming my bag down on its surface before I slumped in my chair. "Fine, fine, fine. I'll send you a list sometime today or tomorrow... Yeah, it can be co-ed—I want Ian and Trevor there, of course—and I guess for the whole rules thing... No stupid party games," I replied. "No build-your-own diaper, no pin the diaper on the baby or whatever, and no chocolate in the oversized diapers. I think those are stupid, Debbie, really, and if I see those at what's supposed to be my baby shower, then I will walk out. I'm serious."

"All right," Debbie said. "Are we allowed to make it known that Iana is a girl and she's already been named?"

I sighed, putting my head automatically into my palm and leaning my elbow onto my desk. "Yes, yeah, that's fine. And I'll also send you the spelling of her name because I don't want there to be any room for errors."

"Thank you, Murphy!" Debbie said, in what I knew was a, "Was that so hard to ultimately see my way of thinking?" tone.

"Great, Debs. I'll see you later, yeah? I have a lot of paperwork to fill out..."

"Sure, sure," Debbie replied. "I'm coming over with Franny on Friday, and Fi said she'd be coming by too, so we can talk turkey then."

"Dammit, Debs! Quit making me hungry!" I cried out.

Debbie laughed on the other end of the phone. "Understood," she replied, and I could almost see her saluting me then. "See you later in the week."

"Bye, Debs," I said into the phone.

"Love you!" she called out.

I sighed, straightening up in my desk chair. "Yeah, love you too, Debbie," I replied, quickly cutting the call before anything got too mushy.

I pulled out my paperwork from my bag, relieved that it wouldn't have to make extra copies of it, as I'd had to do with so many things, now that I was living with Ian and Liam. Not that I didn't love not living with my brothers—they'd brought me comfort and happiness in more ways than one, and it was not something I was prepared to ever give up. As I sat there, looking up more information on Jackie Farris and attempted to consider why she would even want to kill her grandfather—aside from the obvious reason of her being one of the heirs—I found myself quickly growing distracted.

"Iana," I said, placing my hand upon my stomach as I continued typing, "you know as well as I do that I had oatmeal and scrambled eggs this morning for breakfast. Come on," I said, running my hand along the swollen surface, "we'll have some dried fruit in a while, okay? You can wait a bit longer, can't you?"

I continued my progress on the research until noon, whereupon I shoved myself back from my desk and headed downstairs, wallet in one hand and phone in the other. My goal was to get to the employee café, located one floor below, to buy a sandwich of some kind, and perhaps a cookie if the selection was good, before I returned to my office to keep on going with the research. I found I was tapping my foot impatiently as the elevator decided to take its sweet time with its arrival, when a pair of footsteps from behind me caused me to look over my shoulder.

"Hey, Murphy," Nicholas said as he approached, apparently waiting for the elevator as well. He was wearing his navy suit that day—which matched his eyes to a T—and I tried not to think about how well it looked with his maroon necktie. "How's the research going?" he asked, trying to keep his tone casual.

I nodded. "Fine," I replied, attempting to keep my tone neutral. Ever since he'd had that blow-up outside my office, after I'd gotten the flower, card, and chocolate delivery from Josh on Valentine's Day, we'd seldom spoken at all, and when we did, it was casual conversations about the Farris case. "According to the transcript, given to us by the arresting officer after the consent of her own retained attorney, Jackie was out partying until three o'clock."

Nicholas made a face as the elevator arrived, but extended his hand, permitting me to step inside first before he joined me. "But that doesn't help us, Murphy. We're supposed to be establishing that she's guilty," he replied as the elevator doors closed.

I shrugged. "I know, and the attorney has a bias, because he and his firm have been pretty successfully representing the Farris family for generations," I replied. "But, if Jackie's innocent, then who killed Grandpapa Farris?"

"Doesn't matter," Josh replied, his tone firm. "Jackie's guilty in the court of public opinion already, and why wouldn't she be?"

I sighed. "You're right. She's a well-off, Caucasian female, who is considered attractive by today's standards—thigh-gap and all," I said, and caught Nicholas smirking at my observation of the girl we were working towards putting in prison for twenty-five-years to life. "But, Nicholas, what if she isn't guilty?"

Nicholas sighed. "Dad would say find some evidence that points to the contrary," he replied, standing at attention when the elevators dinged, letting us out at the café. "If she's not guilty, that's fine," he went on, stepping out, "but we need some hard evidence—not just sprinkles of circumstantial—that'll get us to let her out of our sight forever."

I gave a short nod then, taking a chance. "Sure you're not just speaking from experience?" I ask him, and he turns around to face me then, his eyes confused and suspicious. "I mean, is there anyone in your life you want out of your sight forever, Nicholas?" I ask him.

Nicholas's mouth became a hard line then, and he looked as if he wanted to say something that I would count as meaningful, but he immediately pulled it back. "I'm not going to discuss Josh with you, Murphy," he said, sounding as if he was holding back a lot more than I initially anticipated for someone like him. "You and I have a lot to work on when it comes to professionalism, and I think we should start right now. Work only from here on in, okay?" he asked, turning away just before his voice would've broken, and walked into the café without looking back at me.

. . .

I was relieved when Ian and Trevor both agreed to come to the baby shower, and I whispered to them that the experience—or, as I called it, an ordeal—would, somehow, be more bearable as a whole with the two of them in attendance. I got Debbie the list by that same week, only adding Allie and Charlotte to the list, for Allie had gone on and on about how much Charlotte wanted to meet me, and how Allie said that Charlotte would benefit from a day out. I was happy to extend the invitation, although I was apprehensive about how posh Allie would react to the standard of living I was initially born into, then torn away from, but then made to think that it was perfect, due to the love I'd experienced being a Gallagher.

About a week before the shower, I gave Josh a call, not wanting to overstep, but also because we hadn't really had a halfway decent conversation after I'd thanked him for his generosity on Valentine's Day. "Hey, stranger," I said when he picked up.

"Murphy?" he asked, his tone hopeful.

"Speaking," I replied.

"How are you?" he asked, attempting to sound subdued. "How's the baby?"

"Iana is just fine," I replied steadily, automatically placing my hand protectively along my abdomen and smiling in a stupid manner. "Listen, I know that doctors lead really busy lives, but you said we were friends..."

"Work cocktail party?" he asked, laughing.

I shook my head. "No, actually. It's actually my baby shower next Saturday, at my place," I said, hoping I didn't sound too eager for him to come. "It's co-ed, and my sisters are throwing it—my younger one already has a daughter and she's just really excited for her to have a playmate, so she kind of roped me into it..."

"I see," Josh said, sounding understanding.

"So, listen, I thought, maybe if you weren't busy, you'd like to stop by. There won't be any stupid games played—I drew the line in the sand with Debbie on that one. But, you said we're friends..." I said, repeating myself, and wondering just how lame I sounded.

"My golfing buddy just called to cancel on me an hour ago, so you're in luck," Josh said, and I could hear the chuckle at the back of his voice.

"You play golf?" I ask.

Josh laughed. "No. Most weekends, I spend at the gym, or going for runs. I'll go for a run in the morning—to keep my cardio in check, you know?"

I laughed back. "Yeah, I know."

"What time is this lovely party?" he asked.

"Two o'clock," I replied.

"Well, I have your address in my file, so I'll make my way over there perfectly and fashionably late," he said. "How's that?"

"Sounds perfect," I replied.

Ian stepped into the room as soon as I ended the call, and he had the audacity to raise his eyebrows up and down dramatically. "Hot doc?" he asked.

I smirked at him, shaking my head before I threw a couch pillow at him. "You are impossible, you know that, don't you?"

Ian laughed, catching the pillow before returning it to the couch. "So I've been told," he replied, crossing the room to sit next to me. "But it was Josh, right?"

"Right," I replied, nodding.

"He say yes?"

I laughed, biting my lower lip in an attempt not to laugh so hard. "Yes."

"Goody," Ian replied. "Trevor and I can look at him and dream of—"

I grabbed up the pillow again, covering his face. "No, no, no!" I said, holding it there as Ian laughed, and attempted to fight me off. "Dammit, Ian! Even pregnant and I can still take you!" I cried, laughing as he knocked the pillow aside, and we collapsed in a mutual fit of the giggles at how potentially gorgeous Josh was.

One week later, the baby shower was in full swing, and all the guests seemed pleased to be there, although the party was a small one. I knew Debbie wished that it had been a more lavish and complete affair, but I assured her that everything was perfect. I said that smaller parties were more my scene, and besides, most of the guests were family, which did wonders for my comfort levels that afternoon.

I was pleased when Josh arrived at the back door, keys to his Lincoln in his hand. "Well, so glad you could make it, Josh!" I said, and allowed him to hug me. "Well, come on in!"

"Your gifts are in the car," he explained.

"Gifts?" I asked, shaking my head. "I didn't ask you to—"

"Someone named Debbie called me..."

I turned my head around then, seeing Debbie talking to Charlotte and Allie, who were spoiling Franny with attention, and Debbie turned red and immediately looked away when I raised my eyebrows at her. "Look, Josh, you didn't—"

"Before you say anything," Josh said, holding up his hand and leading me out to the car, "I only bought two gifts, and both are essentials."

I scoffed then, crossing my arms as he let go of my hand when we reached his car. "Essentials, huh?" I asked.

"Yep," Josh said, grinning at me before unlocking his car. He revealed two boxes—the smaller on his passenger seat, and the larger in the back. "This one," he said, pointing to the one strapped in the front, "is a car seat."

"Josh," I said, shaking my head.

"Top-of-the-line—only the best for Iana," he said, before opening the back door. "And this is a nifty little stroller..."

"That is a fucking pink Bugaboo!" I cried, lowering my voice at the final word, unknowing what the street value of that thing was. "How did you—?!"

"Murphy, I'm a doctor—I can afford it."

"Well, yes, I know that," I said, my anxiety flaring up then. "Look, I wasn't born yesterday, and I know how much those things go for," I said, lowering my voice, so as nobody inside could hear my potential freak out. "If you insist on me keeping it—"

Josh grinned. "I insist."

"Fine," I said, tallying the numbers in my head. "Then I insist on paying you back."

Josh shook his head. "Murphy, it's a gift. You don't owe me a thing."

I sighed. "I have to pay you, Josh. It makes me uncomfortable to accept a gift like that from just a friend. If you were a family member, or..."

"Your boyfriend?" he asked.

I sighed a second time. "Yes, or Iana's father, I could understand this, but..."

Josh smiled, placing a hand on my shoulder. "You really don't owe me a thing—not a dime, not a cent. Just accept it, Murphy, please. Accept it for Iana's sake."

I made a face then, pursing my lips as I thought it over. "Is the car seat matching?" I asked him, and peeked up at him.

Josh laughed. "Yes, the car seat is matching," he replied.

"Well, thank you," I said, stepping forward, and standing on my toes before I allowed myself to hug him. I hesitated for a moment, as I did, and I could feel Josh's body language changing, midway through the embrace.

I pulled back from Josh slowly then, lowering myself back onto the ground as I stared up at him in that moment, frozen. I didn't feel violated or adverse to it when one of Josh's hands crept to my cheek, while the other lowered to my waist. I felt myself tense up at the feeling of his hands had upon me, and, looking up at him again, I could hear my heart hammering in my ears from the moment our eyes locked.

"Josh..." I whispered.

"Murphy," he replied.

"Thank... Thank you," I said quietly. "For all of this, really. You didn't have to..."

"I wanted to, Murphy. It's not charity. It's a gift."

I smiled at him then, breathing heavily at the feeling of being so close to him. "I know you said there's no way of paying you back..."

He nodded. "I did say that."

"Well, maybe... Maybe I could change your mind?" I asked.

Taking a chance, I stood on my toes again and tentatively pressed my lips to his, hoping that I wasn't misreading the signals. I felt myself relax then as he shuddered then, his lips moving beneath mine, tempted to pry my mouth open beneath his. I didn't object—in fact, I allowed him access—and found that the notion of his tongue co-mingling with mine wasn't adverse to me. I gasped aloud then, the electrical charge that everyone talks about seeping through my every moment as his arms came around me then, tightening around me, and I had the feeling that he didn't want to let me go and, in that moment, I didn't want to let him go.

However, life has a way of getting in the way of the fairy tale, and when I heard the crash from inside the house, it immediately seemed to knock Josh and I away from each other. Josh put his hands in his pockets, and I turned to look up at the house. It was so quick, what happened next—one moment, Lip had been working in the kitchen, and the next, he'd seen what was happening between me and Josh. And the final moment? He'd dropped something, in a combination of shock at me moving on, and him because he was adverse to witnessing it.


	11. What Dreams Are Made Of

Chapter Eleven: What Dreams Are Made Of

Nicholas and I had been tiptoeing around each other in the weeks following my baby shower, for Debbie had wasted no time posting a lot of backhanded information about me spending more time with Josh since that day. Although neither of us knew what the other was yet, we knew that we cared about each other, and we were more determined than ever so see where our relationship could go in the future. As April arrived, I was beginning to settle my affairs within the firm in preparation for my maternity leave, not wanting to leave any stones unturned when I wouldn't be in the office to fix them.

"How's the nursery shaping up?" Allie asked me one afternoon as we had lunch together. "I'll bet it's just lovely."

I smiled at her. "No nursery, unfortunately," I replied. "I had to rearrange my bedroom to accommodate a crib for Iana. But, I don't mind—she's going to be sharing a room for me for a couple of years until a house opens up in the neighborhood."

"You want to stay in the neighborhood?" Allie wanted to know.

I nodded. "Yes, of course. It's where I would've been raised anyway if circumstances hadn't prevented that," I replied. "And I know that my siblings had, shall we say, questionable aspects of their upbringing, but..." I shrugged. "I know it's going to be hard—what with me going back to work in a few months—but I'm ready for the challenge. My whole life, up until last July, was a challenge—a living hell—so this will be a cakewalk in comparison."

Allie smiled. "I'm sure you're right," she replied. "I didn't mean anything by my remarks, Murphy. I hope you realize that."

I nodded. "No, I know. It's all a bit of a culture shock, I think," I told her. "I mean, even though I lacked love within my familial unit—if you could really call it that—I was given all the luxury I could ever want. Except total freedom..."

"Where do you think you would be now, if you were raised here, in the South Side?" Allie wanted to know.

I smiled, considering it. "Well, I'm not sure that the whole academia thing would've ended up kicking in," I replied. "Lip and Debbie, my older brother and younger sister, were pretty smart growing up, so maybe I would've taken after then. And maybe... Maybe my twin brother, Ian, maybe he would've had an easier time of it growing up, but..." I felt my shoulders rising and falling as I considered it. "There's no on and off switch for mental illness. I've learned that well over the years."

"You think you would've been happier, growing up here?"

"Can't know that," I replied.

"Just hypothetically speaking."

I mulled it over then, considering it. "I guess what it all comes down to is, what you want and need more in your early life—love or money. I was unloved growing up, but had access to all the money and luxuries that life had to offer. However, if I was raised with my siblings, we wouldn't have had any money, but I would've been surrounded by love..." I think about it then, and the answer comes to me. "I think, before I knew what love was—not just in the romantic sense, but in the platonic and familial senses as well—I would've gone for the life of money but without love, because I wasn't conditioned to know what love was. But now... Now, I want the life without money, but full of love."

"It's just such a shame, that you can't go back and change things."

I nodded. "It is a shame, but what could I have done, right?" I asked, forcing a smile onto my face to prevent myself from crying. "What could a three-month-old have done before being ripped from her twin brother's side?"

. . .

"Getting ready for your final week of work?" Ian asked that weekend as we sat on the couch, a bowl of popcorn between us.

I nodded. "Attempting to gear up for it, if this one lets me," I say, looking down, and shaking my head at how big I've gotten. "Dammit. I'll be eight months by the end of next week, and I'm so not ready for it..."

"Your hospital bag is packed, and your room is all set up," Trevor said from my other side, reaching around me to grab a handful of popcorn. "Of which, of course, Ian and I helped you with, especially with the heavy stuff."

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, yeah, keep patting yourselves on the back," I said, laughing to myself as I settled into the couch cushions. "God, I didn't realize how exhausting all of this would be. And you know what sucks the most?"

"What?" Ian asked.

I sighed. "Not having someone to blame for it," I replied. "All I have to blame is my drunkenness and stupidity, and it's getting old..."

"I get it," Trevor said, chewing his popcorn carefully. "But I know you're going to make an amazing mom, Murphy. And that's not just me talking—Ian thinks so, Fiona thinks so, Debbie thinks so..."

I smiled at him. "You're sweet," I replied. "I just wish that people would stop being so damned chivalrous all the time, though..."

"How do you mean?" Ian asked.

"Well, helping me up whenever I need to stand," I reply.

"It's the polite thing to do when you're carrying something," Trevor explained.

I scoffed, taking another mouthful of popcorn and chewing it for a moment, as an infomercial played about the safety of condoms in addition to birth control pills. "Yeah, I know, but the look on some of their faces..."

"What did they do? Who did it?" Ian asked, cracking his knuckles and making a fist. "I won't have anyone going after you, Murphy. I won't."

Trevor held up a hand. "Easy," he said to Ian.

"Nobody in particular," I said, fixing Ian with a look. "But I just wish that society wouldn't automatically blame the woman, you know?"

"Preaching to the choir," Trevor replied.

"I mean, it's not like I wanted this to happen," I reply, running my hand along my stomach and smiling to myself. "Well, maybe ten years from now, when I was established in my career field and hopefully married..."

"You think you need to be married to have kids?" Trevor asked.

I looked over at him and grinned. "I think I can easily say no, considering that I kept this baby inside me," I replied. "I don't think it should matter what the relationship is, as long as the people responsible—or the people that are going to be responsible—have the means to support a child long-term."

"And love?" Ian asked quietly.

I smiled. "Of course love is a factor—anyone who says it isn't is fucking stupid," I replied. "But I think that if it's a single parent raising the child—or, in my case, a single parent and every sibling on the planet—then that love should count for something."

"It counts," Trevor assured me.

I nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I think so, too..."

"How's Josh?" Ian wanted to know.

"Yeah—haven't seen him since the shower," Trevor replied. "Things good?"

I nodded, looking back up at the screen, wanting to throw the entire bowl of popcorn at Rachel McAdams' stupid, rain-washed face. "They seem to be. I mean, we text every day and talk a few times a week on the phone..."

Ian nodded. "When did you last see him?"

"Wednesday," I replied. "We went to lunch."

"Long conversation?" Trevor asked.

I laughed. "I guess. He spent most of the meal watching me..."

Ian made a face. "Creepy, much?"

I shook my head. "No, he's just in doctor-mode," I replied. "He just wanted to make sure I'm getting all the correct food groups and such. And then the notion that I could possibly go into labor at any time now is a factor..."

"At any time?" Trevor asked, deliberately moving away from me.

I laughed. "First babies could come up to a month early, so pretty soon," I replied. "But Josh is so kind and considerate. Asking me if I'm getting enough sleep..."

"Because you won't, down the line?" Ian asks.

I shake my head, nudging him with my elbow. "Pretty much, yeah, but I am sick and tired of people saying that to me. Consider yourself warned."

Ian threw up his hands. "I'm warned. I get it."

"See a future with him?" Trevor wanted to know. "With Josh?"

I smiled at that. "I like to think so, but Iana is number-one on my mind," I replied. "I mean, do I want her to have an actual father eventually? Yes. Will Ian be a wonderful father figure until that day comes? Absolutely."

Ian smiled. "Promise," he replied, taking my hand. "You won't have a thing to worry about, Murphy, because I'm right here."

I nodded. "And I'm glad you're here. I'm glad you're both here," I said, putting my arms around them both. "Gives me hope, you know? That things'll eventually attempt to work themselves out in all my futures, not just my romantic one."

. . .

When Friday arrived, I couldn't believe that it was officially my final day of work before my maternity leave was due to begin. I was picking up Liam that day, so I would be leaving just before three o'clock that day to ensure he was collected from school on time. I'd had a text message from Nicholas that morning, who had requested a final meeting regarding all my in-office research with Jackie Farris, which I'd agreed to. I had half an hour before I needed to be in the conference room, so my plan was to prepare all my most recent paperwork on the subject before making my way over there.

"What have you found out?" Nicholas asked, half an hour later, as we sat across from one another in the conference room.

"Jackie Farris' location was the Velvet Lounge, which was on Saturday night," I replied, and handed over the pictures that somebody had taken of her. "The club is open until three a.m. on Saturday's, and rigor suggested that the body showed no signs of life sometime after midnight, which means that Jackie would've had to leave the club, drive forty minutes, kill her grandfather, and then get back to the club," I replied. "As you can see, the pictures are time-stamped," I went on, showing Nicholas the indicators in the bottom right-hand corner.

"So, this means, that Jackie hired someone to do the dirty work for her..."

"...or she's innocent," I replied.

Nicholas nodded, mulling over the information. "What do you think?"

I sighed. "Honestly?"

He looked up at me. "Honestly."

"I think she did it, no question," I replied. "Besides, see this?" I ask him, showing him a picture from eleven-thirty, and then another one, taken shortly after one a.m., which clearly had some differences between them. "See? In both photographs, she's wearing black tube dresses, but do you see a difference?"

Nicholas peered closer. "It's shadowy, but one has silver sequins..."

"...and the other has black fringe," I reply.

Nicholas looked up. "Shit. So, it's possible..."

I nodded. "Yes. But, while I think it was premeditated, and she pulled the trigger, I don't think she's the mastermind behind this."

Nicholas considered that. "How do you figure?"

"I think her father was the mastermind," I replied. "We got his schedule," I tell him, and show off the paperwork I'd collected. "As you can see, he re-scheduled his meeting time for that night in Los Angeles, instead of the following week."

"One little meeting shift change won't sway a jury, Murphy."

I nodded. "I know, which is exactly what I thought until I saw this," I replied, pressing the button of the remote control, which connected to the flat screen in the room. "It's the news conference after Jackie was released on bail," I whispered as it begun.

Jackie, pale as a ghost in a cream-colored suit, was flanked by her father, her mother Pamela, and her attorney, stepped out of the courthouse and into the sea of reporters, each clamoring for an interview.

"Miss Farris! Did you kill your grandfather?" one of them asked.

"I..." Jackie began, but was immediately silenced by her father, who placed a hand onto Jackie's shoulder, and boldly faced the reporters, as Jackie grew paler.

"As I'm sure my daughter's esteemed attorney will tell you, it would be wrong of her to speak, and potentially blacken the reputation of the Farris family further..."

"Try saying that five times fast," Nicholas muttered.

"...and so, my daughter has nothing further to say at this time. Thank you," he said, leading Jackie and her mother by the arm, as their attorney forced their way through the crowd and to the waiting limo.

I switched off the flat screen and Nicholas turned back to me. "It's where my psychology degree comes in handy," I replied. "Jackie is his puppet."

Nicholas blinked. "Paul Farris, international businessman, taking over the Farris Foundation from his father from the time he was twenty-five, who pulls in a good five hundred thousand a year, who speaks out against gun violence and is an avid force against the NRA, told his daughter to kill his father?"

I nodded. "Yes."

Nicholas sighed. "It's an interesting play, Murphy, sure," he replied. "But think about it. Other than the money, what other possible motive could he have?"

I sighed. "Still working that out."

Nicholas gave a stiff nod then. "Right. I get it."

I blinked, put off by his tone. "What's that supposed to mean?"

He sighed. "You're always talking to Josh or with Josh," he said, his brow furrowing at the mere thought of it. "You have work to do, Murphy, and you're about to become a mother. Now is not the time to be distracted by a man."

I grit my teeth. "I realize that we need this piece of evidence, Nicholas—believe me, I get that, more than you realize. But what I do in my personal life is none of your concern."

"It becomes my concern, Murphy, when it affects your work output," he says, and I'm reminded of that day in court.

 _Back to square one_ , I think to myself. "Look, Nicholas, I know there's bad blood between the two of you, but it's enough now. It should be enough that you don't have to see Josh—I've explained that we work together..."

"Oh, great!" Nicholas said. "I'll bet he loved hearing that!"

"...and," I said, deliberately ignoring him, "I've explained that it would likely be better if he kept away from the firm itself."

Nicholas scoffed. "Well, can't say I'm surprised."

I raised my eyes to his. "What are you insinuating?"

"Nothing," Nicholas said, shrugging. "Guess that...I don't know. if you were a coward once, you'll always be a coward, right?"

I felt my fingers winding themselves up into my palms, the nails biting the skin. "You have no right to speak of Josh that way, as if you're jealous," I say to him, and Nicholas's eyes snap instantly to mine. "You've got Jasmine, so lay off me and my relationship. I'm sorry if things with her are complicated, but that doesn't mean you can just shit on the idea of me and Josh wanting to see if we can be together."

"Things with Jasmine are great," Nicholas fired back, gathering up his things.

I leaned back in my chair, crossing my arms. "Yeah?"

"Yeah! And do you know why things are so fucking great?"

I shake my head. "No. No, I can't say I do."

"Things are so great with Jasmine because she's pregnant," Nicholas says.

I sit up in my chair then, feeling as if I'd been punched in the gut. "Pregnant?"

"Yeah," Nicholas replied, catching my eye for a moment, and quickly looking away. "Only about three months or something—not far along. But pregnant."

"Well, that's..." I say, hesitating for a moment, wondering what I could possibly say as Nicholas looks up at me. "That's great!" I say a little too enthusiastically. "Congratulations—great work, Nicholas, really."

Nicholas looks away again, obviously uncomfortable. "Yeah. Yeah. Well... Don't let Josh distract you too much, okay?"

I lowered my eyes, stacking my paperwork hard on the table—much harder than I intended. "Just leave it alone, Nicholas," I replied.

"Right, yeah," he says, moving to leave the room. "I'll leave it alone," he tells me then, but I think it is more for himself as he walks out.

. . .

I spent the next few weeks preparing entirely for Iana, as well as a fraction of the time attempting in vain to figure out Paul Farris's motive for wanting his father dead, other than the stereotypical one of money. I just couldn't seem to shake the sense that I was missing something in the dynamic of the Farris family, but the sooner I found it, the sooner I could put it to rest. The rest of my time I spent with Josh; while we still weren't official yet, I thought the day was coming, and he wasn't averse to interacting with Iana when she showed up.

"May twentieth?" he asked me.

I laughed. "Yes."

"But that's tomorrow," he said with a grin.

I nodded. "I know."

"And you're fine just walking? I could order a town car for us..."

I shook my head, smiling when he pulled my arm through his. "I don't mind—exercise is good for the baby anyway. And it's such a beautiful day."

Josh smiled. "I love how... I don't want to say easy..."

I raised my eyebrows. "You don't?"

He shook his head. "No. Negative implications."

"Oh," I said. "Well, I appreciate that, then."

"Low-maintenance, with the best intentions?"

I laughed again. "Okay, you can say that."

"Well, I hope you won't take offense to me talking about my past..."

I shook my head. "No, not at all."

"Thank you," he replied. "It's just that...a lot of the women I saw personally, they saw the title doctor in front of my name, and..."

"Assumed you either came from a good family with high hopes or just wanted to get out of the gutter, but now you make a lot of money and, if they're on your arm, so to speak, they're entitled to reap the rewards?" I ask him.

He nodded. "Exactly."

I sighed, squeezing his arm gently. "I'm sorry," I replied.

"But not you, Murphy. Not you."

I shrugged. "No, not me..."

"Why is that, do you think?"

I smiled a little then. "Well, after I was adopted at three months, my adoptive parents—Martin and Tina—suffered from lack of emotional chemistry, which manifested into physical chemistry, which led to a lack of communication, and then the breakdown of their marriage."

"Martin left?"

"When I was five," I reply. "He left, and Tina stayed. Unfortunately, when she met her second husband, Dr. Normal, the shit hit the fan..."

"He was abusive?"

"Encouraged Tina to neglect me," I replied. "Then, once they had three sons of their own, it all became much easier for her."

"How bad did it get?"

"Locked in a psych ward a handful of times for disobeying him."

"What counted as disobedience?"

"Having a girlfriend," I replied.

Josh looked over at me, curiously and not unkindly. "A girlfriend-girlfriend or just a close friend?" he asked.

"Girlfriend-girlfriend," I replied. "The cover story was that we were just best friends, but Dr. Normal caught on quickly, and he threw her out after he caught us together."

Josh shook his head. "I'm so sorry."

I nodded. "It's okay. I was used to the physical abuse by then."

"Did he ever...?"

I shook my head. "No. No, he stayed away from that, thank god." I hesitated for a moment, biting my lower lip. "Does it bother you, that I had a girlfriend?"

Josh shakes his head. "I don't give a fuck, Murphy. Doesn't bother me."

I smiled. "Thanks." We continued in silence for several moments then, and I almost didn't ask, but I found I couldn't help myself. "What's the deal with you and Nicholas?"

"Oh, Nick," he said, and I raised my eyebrows, never having heard anyone call him that. "Now, there's a story..."

"What happened?" I asked, quietly.

"He was the security for the town thugs," Josh replied. "One day, his target was my older brother, Desmond. Desmond ended up being thrown off a building."

I gasped. "You serious?"

Josh nodded. "Yeah. Desmond still graduated law school, but he's paralyzed from the waist down from the fall..."

"Nicholas push him?" I asked.

Josh sighed. "I wasn't there, but I think he did," he replied. "His instructions were to beat up, but not to kill. Since Desmond lived, and since Nick comes from a halfway decent family, he got off with an assault charge, and joined the military academy."

I shook my head, trudging down the street, my arm in Josh's. "Shit. I mean, you think you really know a guy..."

"And, of course, he was a juvenile at the time..."

I pursed my lips. "Records are wiped and sealed, if you know the right people..."

Josh stopped walking for a moment, and I turned around to face him. "Look, I don't want to poison you against the guy or anything..."

I shook my head. "Hey, I asked you..."

"I know," Josh said softly. "But I think military academy and law school straightened him out. I mean, I'll never forget what he did, Murphy, but if Desmond can forgive him, then so can I. It took me a long time, and I sure as shit don't want to go back and relieve some of those dark days, but..." He shrugged. "I've moved past it."

I smiled. "That's good," I replied. "The forgiving part, and the moving on. But you can't forget what happened..."

Josh shook his head. "Never."

I lay my head on his chest. "Thank you."

"For what?"

I looked up at him. "For telling me. I think I understand your guys' dynamic a little bit better now, and it'll help for the future."

Josh nodded. "Anytime I can help, Murphy," he replied, kissing my temple. "I'm always here to help if you need or want it."

. . .

After everything I'd heard that day—the entire encyclopedia of Nicholas and Josh drama—all I wanted to do was drive around and forget. I'd texted Ian, letting him know what was happening and that I just needed to be alone for a while and, since I'd kept him in the loop, he had no cause for direct worry. Given that my due date was the following day, however, he'd requested that I not leave town, which was something I could understand.

When eleven o'clock presented itself on my car clock, I knew the time had come to head back home, and so I turned around and did just that. Once I arrived, I somehow managed to extract myself from the car, keeping hand on my stomach as I walked through the darkness and towards the house. Fishing my keys out of my pocket, I fumbled with them briefly with the light of my cell phone to guide me as I unlocked the door and stepped inside, locking it behind me.

I heard a belch from the living room then and, upon further investigation, saw that Lip was halfway passed out on the couch. "Shit, Lip," I said, setting my bag down in the hallway and walking towards him, perching on the edge on one of the chairs, smelling the alcohol on his breath and growing discouraged. "The fuck's going on with you tonight?"

Lip belched again, attempting to straighten himself out. "Ian and Trevor had a hot date tonight or something... Sent me over to babysit Liam..." He let out a sharp laugh then. "If only we could turn back time, right? Go back to that night..."

I shook my head. "Lip, you're drunk. Stop it."

"...wish we could go back, Murph. Because, back then, you were my Scar, and we could've conquered the world together."

"Lip, come on," I said to him, trying to stay calm as I ran my hands through my hair. "You and I have discussed this time and time again, and the answer will always be the same, and you know it. You're my fucking brother, and that's the way it has to stay. And you going on benders to relive the past are disconcerting, and you shouldn't do that to yourself, because after everything fucking Frank did, you don't need to do that..."

Lip turns and looks at me then, his eyes tortured to the point of a hard reconciliation to the positivity that life had to offer. "You broke me, Murphy."

I sighed, knowing that, a small part of me, at least, had it coming. "I know, Lip—I was broken, too, I hope you know that..."

Lip looks away. "I know that."

"Look, I could understand your rational completely if I'd somehow continued fucking with you after I found out what we were to each other, but I didn't, and you know this, too. I put as much distance between us as I could when I found out. And no matter what I did, or who I did, somehow or someway, you keep stumbling back to me. And I don't want you to—I try to dissuade you, but you keep coming back. I want to understand why, Lip, you feel the need to put us both through this, when you know it's wrong..."

Lip got to his feet then, nearly slamming into the table as he faced me then, and I automatically drew back from the fury that radiated from every fiber of his being. "Because I fucking love you, Murphy!" he yelled, his voice trembling. "I fucking love you, and I don't know if this love is ever going to stop, but you need to know... You need to know it fucking killed me to see you with Josh that day," he said, his voice continuing to shake as he grabbed me by the arms, hauling me easily out of the chair I was sitting in, staring down at me, just staring, as his eyes filled with tears. "Don't you know that, Murphy? Don't you?"

"Whether or not I know it is beside the point, Lip," I said, attempting to keep my cool with him, remembering the consequences of attempting to ward off the blows—or the advances—of a person who is inebriated. "The point is that you have got to get this out of your head, and get your ass back into rehab, because, obviously, it didn't work the first time."

"Don't say that to me! I know it didn't fucking work, Murphy, because if it did, I would've never fallen in love with my fucking sister!"

"This shit needs to stop, Lip," I said, forcing myself to keep my voice firm. "You need to let me go—figurately and literally—because you are my fucking brother," I say, attempting to get out of his hold on me. "Please, Lip—let me go."

"No," Lip said, his tone begging. "Don't leave me, Murphy."

"I'm not," I said automatically. "I'm your sister. We're family—families don't leave when someone is up shit creek. I'm not going anywhere, Lip. I'm always here for you," I said, trying to ignore the pain I felt—emotionally, at his words, and physically, with his hands. "Please. I need you to let me go, Lip."

"No. No, I can't—I love you!" Lip blurted out then, yanking me towards him without so much as a fleeting thought for hesitation or rational thought, his lips meeting mine quickly and fervently as he held me there.

"Lip!" I cried, yanking my head backwards. "Stop it!"

"I can't—I can't anymore," he said, pulling me at full-force again, our mouths converging upon one another's again, as I struggled to escape his grip.

"Lip! What the fucking fuck?!" came a roar from the back door then and, mercifully, Lip's grip on my arms slackened enough to get me to yank myself away from him.

"Ian!" I cried out, running across the space towards him then, throwing myself into his arms, the hot tears already developing on my face. "He's drunk, Ian! I don't think he's fully in his right mind right now—"

"Murph," said a voice from behind Ian.

I looked up then, seeing Trevor making the whole ordeal better. "Trev," I said, letting Ian go and walking toward him automatically, nearly collapsing in his arms.

"Ian, careful," Trevor said, his arms tightly wound around me.

"You son of a bitch," Ian said, and, as I turned, I saw Ian walking towards Lip in a stealth-like manner, as if he was a lion stalking his prey. "Murphy is our fucking sister—how many times do I have to have the same fucking argument with you?!"

"You don't get it!" Lip roared. "I love her, and she loves me, too!"

"Loved," Ian said, his tone filled with anger. "She loved you, Lip. Once Murphy knew it was wrong, she had the sense to move on."

"Like you did, when you made the decision to do something stupid, like running off with Mickey the first change you got?!" Lip demanded.

"Lip!" I cried out then, the pain in my voice for Ian and for Trevor, who stiffened at Lip's words—that whole line of conversation couldn't have been easy for him.

"That's none of your goddammed business, Lip," Ian said, his voice angrier than I'd ever heard it before—even more angry then when I told him Mickey was Iana's father. "We're talking about your mistakes, not mine."

Lip dragged a hand through his hair in exasperation. "Yeah, you're right, because we'd need to write a fucking book for your mistakes, Ian!"

"Lip, shut the fuck up and listen to me!" Ian yelled. "Murphy is fucking pregnant, and she's almost in a relationship with someone else! She's moved on, and now, you have to, too. I know it's hard, but I know you can do it. Let her go, Lip. Let Murphy go."

"I can't! She's _mine_!" Lip roared then, reaching up with his fist and clobbering Ian in the jaw without hesitation.

"Ian!" I screamed my voice ripping from my throat as Trevor let me go then, running at Lip and shoving him immediately towards the door, while I stumbled towards Ian. "Ian..." I whispered then, when I felt something spasm within me then, causing me to fall to my knees as Trevor slammed and locked the door behind Lip. "Oh, shit..." I whispered.

Ian looked up then, cradling his head—half of his face would be purple in a matter of hours. "I'm okay, Murphy, really—"

"You may be," I said as Trevor walked back into the living room, "but I'm not..."

"Don't let Lip upset you," Trevor said, helping Ian to his feet. "He just needs to sober up and get some help."

"I need help," I whispered, as Ian moved to lift me as well.

"Why?" Ian asked.

"This is why!" I cried out then, pointing to my feet.

Ian lowered his eyes then, his eyes widening. "Oh, shit," he whispered.

"Oh, fuck," Trevor said.

"My fucking water broke!" I screamed then, and then, there was a huge wave of pain that went through my body, doubling me over. "Shit!" I yelled. "Car, car, car—now!"

"Okay," Ian said, getting an arm around me. "Trev, do you mind—"

"Of course I'll watch Liam," he replied, closing the distance between him and Ian and kissing him, hard, on the mouth. "Murph, it's all going to be okay," he said, kissing me on the cheek. "I know you can do this."

I laughed then, stumbling towards the stairs, where I'd left my hospital bag a week before. "I think so, too, but I want that goddammed shot in my spine fucking now!"

"Careful," Ian said, a smile playing at his lips as he opened the door, his arm still protectively around me. "Iana can hear you, you know..."

I flipped my hair back then, giving Ian a look of death as we stepped out onto the front porch and into the cool night air. "You really don't want to give me information I've known for months like it's a fucking trivia night in a fucking sports bar!" I yelled at him.

"She's right," Trevor said, moving to stand in the doorway. "Don't give her information like that, Ian—it's not polite."

"What am I allowed to say?"

"I'd say words of encouragement. Like, 'Hey, you've got this', or 'Come on, you're doing great', would be appropriate..." Trevor put in.

"And I'm _not_ delivering Iana on our fucking dirty porch!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, knowing that, soon, the pain could be too intense for me to walk. "Just take me to my fucking car so that I can go deliver Iana in the sanitized area known as a hospital!"

"You know, Murph, I could—"

"Do _not_ tell me that you want to deliver Iana, Ian!" I screeched, pulling him down the steps of the house. "I know you had training, and I don't fucking care! I love you, and I know you're my twin, but I don't want you anywhere near this zone!"

"Take the hint," Trevor said from the doorway, nodding at Ian with a grin on his face. "Just get her to a hospital—it's what she wants."

"Yeah, maybe, but I really feel like it should happen at home..."

"And I really feel like you should do what the lady who has a baby coming out of her crotch wants to be done!" I yelled, yanking him closer to my car. "Come the fuck on and drive me to the fucking hospital before she's born outside! Fuck!" I screamed, doubling over as a new wave of pain flowed through me then, and cursed myself that I wasn't timing these things. "Throw me in the back of the car like a fucking sack of potatoes if you have to, Ian, but I want to go to the fucking hospital right now!"

Ian sighed. "All right, Murph, you win," he said, getting my keys from my trembling hand and leading me to the car. "Show time," he called back to Trevor, helping me into the car before he himself got in. He floored the gas like a fucking race car driver before pulling off down the street and into the night, while all the while I attempted to find a comfortable position as Iana attempted to claw her way into the world.

TO BE CONTINUED


	12. Found Out About You

Chapter Twelve: Found Out About You

"We could always turn back now, and pull a Debbie," Ian said as we continued driving through the night, at the outskirts of downtown.

I flipped my hair back, its roots already caked in sweat, and resumed the death glare I'd been giving him earlier. "I've told you before, Ian," I said, attempting to keep my voice down, due to the confined space of the car, "I want to deliver Iana in a fucking hospital. How many times do I have to tell you that? We pregnant women are a point of contention in the population, and I respect that, but we've got rights, too."

Ian smirked, negotiating between the other cars on the road as we drove towards the hospital as the minutes on my car clock ticked closer to midnight. "I know, Murphy—I'm just fucking with you, really."

"Well, don't," I replied, gritting my teeth as I worked on focusing on my breathing. "I love you, Ian, really I do, but I really just want straight conversation from here on in..."

"Well, that's going to be an issue," Ian replied. "Should I deepen my voice a little? Should I talk about how much I love the opposite sex?"

I gave him a look like he was insane. "Sarcasm is _not_ what I meant!" I grumbled, letting out a small scream as another contraction ripped through me. "Fuck!" I screamed, leaning back against my seat, relieved that the car seat had been set up by Ian and left in the back seat earlier that week, to ensure the hospital would let us go home after the birth. "Dammit! I really hope this isn't going too quickly..."

"Why?" Ian asked.

I sighed. "Once the woman hits ten centimeters, then she can't have any pain medication!" I yelled back at him, no longer having any concern for his hearing. "And once that happens, I'm going to be dying more than I am now!"

"You're not dying," Ian said gently as we reached the other side of downtown. "Trust me—I've seen plenty of pregnant women on my routes. You're going to be—"

"You're not a fucking expert on the subject, Ian!" I yelled, hating myself for speaking this way, but wanting the pain to go away as quickly as possible. "I don't care if you've seen three, or three thousand women on your routes—you're not a pregnancy expert!"

Ian nodded. "I know. We're all good at our own things, Murph," he said, looking over at me then, his brow furrowed. "You okay?"

I sighed, a wave of pain stopping itself, and I relaxed again. "For now."

"You going to call Josh?" Ian asked.

I shrugged. "He said he was working tonight, so he'll probably figure out I'm there..."

"Trouble in paradise?"

"Well, I think I figured out the whole thing with him and Nicholas..."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah." I straightened in my seat then, keeping a firm hand upon my stomach. "I told you about Nicholas's past as a thug?"

Ian tightened his grip on the steering wheel. "Yes."

"Well, apparently, Josh's brother was involved somehow, and Nicholas ended up throwing him off a building and paralyzing him," I replied.

"Shit," Ian whispered.

I nodded. "Yeah. But Josh forgave him."

"He forgave him?"

"Mmm-hmmm," I replied. "Josh said he'll never forget, but he forgave Nicholas, all because his brother, Desmond, forgave him."

"Well, more power to him, I guess," Ian replied, obviously annoyed at the fact that I still had to be in contact with Nicholas. "But I want you to be on your guard, okay?"

"My guard?" I asked, as we reached the block of the hospital, and tried again to focus on my breathing. "Why should I need to keep on my guard? The army straightened Nicholas out. I told you this. He told me this..."

"Yeah, but Nicholas failed to mention the part where he threw an innocent guy off a fucking building," Ian said, obviously trying to keep his cool.

I sighed, shifting in my seat as we continued down the block. "Look, I know you care Ian—I'm glad that you care, really—but we need to focus on Iana right now. I mean, she's almost here and we still need to get me to the hospital..."

Ian nodded. "Can do," he replied.

We arrived at the emergency entrance of the hospital, and Ian managed to find a spot not too far away from the entrance. I ducked down into the well of the seat, where my feet were resting, and retrieved my bag, which was filled with clothes for Iana and me, as well as all the necessities that all the top-ranking baby websites told me should've been there. I kept up my breathing as Ian helped me from the car, slamming and locking the door behind me, as we made our way through the darkness and towards the entrance.

"Hi," I said as we shuffled up to the front desk. "My name is Murphy Gallagher, and this is my twin brother, Ian Gallagher."

"How may we help you this morning, Miss Gallagher?" the woman asked.

"My sister's in the early stages of labor," Ian replied.

"Oh, I see," the woman said, typing as fast as lightning onto her computer, obviously checking me into the system. "Can we get a wheelchair here?" she called back to the nurses' station. "We have a woman in labor!"

I felt instantly relieved when the wheelchair arrived, and Ian took ahold of my bag for a moment as I settled into it. "He can come with me, right?"

The orderly who collected me gave Ian a look. "He the father?"

"God, no!" Ian cried, making a disgusted face.

"He's my twin," I replied. "My brother..."

"Oh," the orderly said, looking embarrassed. "Yeah, man. Come on back."

I kept a firm grip on Ian's hand as another contraction took over then, which lasted all the way to the delivery room before giving me a break. I was put up onto the massive exam table, and Ian, thankfully, looked away while a doctor and a nurse came in—both female, thankfully—and got ahold of my pants and yanked them down to check me. I was given a hospital gown for maximum comfort, and managed to slip that on as they looked me over.

"We're at five centimeters, Murphy," said the doctor, who I recognized as Dr. Laramie, one of the best doctors the hospital had to offer. "You stipulated in your file that you would be interested in an epidural?"

"Five centimeters?!" I demanded then, looking at Ian in fear before I turned to look at Dr. Laramie in a moment of shock.

"Something wrong, Murphy?"

I nodded. "Yeah! All the books said that I had a few hours before I was dilated this much! I don't understand what's happening..."

Dr. Laramie nodded. "Have you been experiencing cramps?"

I pursed my lips. "Yes," I replied.

"Since when?"

"Since lunchtime?" I asked, lifting up my shoulders and allowing them to fall. "What the hell does that have to do with anything?"

"Were they painful?"

"Nothing I couldn't handle," I replied, feeling more secure as Ian came to stand beside me and to take my hand. "But what does it have to do with—?"

Dr. Laramie smiled, cutting me off. "Murphy, that simply means you were in labor for the last twelve hours and didn't know it. Did an onset of stress make your water break?"

"You could say that," Ian replied, his tone clipped, and Dr. Laramie turned to look at him. "Our older brother attacked Murphy about half an hour ago."

"Oh, my," Dr. Laramie said, motioning to the nurses to get the massive needle ready for my pain medication, and I immediately gravitated towards Ian for comfort. "Are you feeling all right, Murphy?" she asked, turning back to me.

I nodded then, turning towards Ian so as the nurse could untie the back of my hospital gown and give me that damned shot in my spine. I gripped Ian's hand tightly, shutting my eyes as I was injected before being told that I could lie back in my former position. "I'm fine," I managed to get out, breathing hard again, feeling relieved that Ian was there.

"All right," Dr. Laramie said gently. "Well, it shouldn't be for another hour or two, but we'll come and check on you soon," she said, motioning for the nurses to follow her as they all slipped out of the room.

"Do you need anything?" Ian asked. "Ice chips?"

"Call Fiona," I said, trying to keep my tone from wavering. "I want her to be here. I want you and her to be the godparents."

Ian smiled. "Really?"

"Of course. I need her, Ian. Please..."

He nodded, taking out his phone and dialing the number. He kept his free hand in mine then as we waited for our older sister to accept the phone call. "Fi? Hey, it's Ian. Yeah, I know, I'm sorry it's so late... No, I'm fine. Yeah, I know Lip got drunk tonight. You're letting him crash at your place? Jesus... No, I'm at the hospital. No, I told you, I'm fine—I'm here with Murphy. I'm here because the baby's coming..."

"The baby's coming?!" Fiona screamed from the other end of the phone, causing Ian to lift the phone away from his ear, and caused me to laugh. "What the hell?!"

"I know, I know—it's a long story," he said, trying to calm her down as he moved the phone back to his ear. "Anyhow, Murphy wants you to be here."

"Me?!" Fiona cried. "Me, really?!"

"Yes," Ian said, obviously trying to keep his cool. "Can you come?"

"I'll be right there," Fiona said. "See you soon."

Ian smiled. "Bye, Fi," he replied, hanging up and turning back to me. "Better?"

I sighed. "Yeah...at least until I get more knife wounds..."

He smirked. "Knife wounds?"

I shrugged. "Closest thing I could think of to these things..."

. . .

Fiona arrived half an hour later, and the active stages of labor had officially begun, so much so that I had the both of them on either side of me, holding my hands and whispering words of encouragement to me. They would take to getting me ice in turns, so as to rest their hands and ears periodically, because both were equally important, right? While all the while I remained in my hospital bed, just trying to envision good things as the pain cut through the epidural, and I began to think that there was something wrong with me.

"There is absolutely nothing wrong with you," Fiona assures me, as Ian left the room to get me some more ice chips and to call Trevor. "I can promise you that."

I laughed then as Fiona took a comb to make sure that my hair was completely off my forehead to ensure some form of comfort. "We're fucking Gallagher's," I said, placing my free hand upon my stomach.

"That's right—and you're bringing the next one into the world," Fiona said gently. "I can't tell you how excited I am for you."

I sighed, looking up at her and smiling. "Listen, Ian didn't mention it on the phone, but I want you to be Iana's godmother," I said quietly.

Fiona smiled. "Me?"

I nodded. "Of course. So, in the event of anything happening to me, I've written into my will that you and Ian will share joint-custody of Iana."

"And if you get married?"

"You'll still be on the list," I assured her. "Even if I get married, there's no guarantee that any husband of mine will want to let Iana take his name..."

Fiona leaned down and kissed my head. "Well, that means a lot, Murphy. Thank you." She hesitated for a moment.

"Lip?" I asked.

"Yeah. He was saying some pretty fucked up shit when I let him in..."

I bit my lip, laying my head back against my pillows. "Any chance it was about his undying love for me?" I asked.

"Now that you mention it..." Fiona said quietly.

I sighed. "Ian and Trevor had a date, so Ian left Lip in charge because I needed to get out of my head for a while," I said quietly.

"You okay?"

I nodded. "Yeah, fine... Anyhow, Lip was over and pretty fucked up, so I told him that maybe he should seek out some more help..."

"Good sisterly thing to do," Fiona put in.

"That's what I thought," I replied. "So, Lip starts going on and on about how I'm such a fucking bitch since I used him, apparently, and that he's in love with me..." I shook my head. "And that's when he fucking lost it..."

"Lost it? What did he...?"

"He kissed me," I replied, turning to look at Fiona. "Just dragged me out of the fucking chair I was sitting in, and fucking kissed me."

Fiona sighed. "Jesus," she whispered.

"I told him to stop," I said quietly, lowering my eyes back to my stomach. "Told him to stop so many times, but he said he couldn't...and then Ian and Trevor walked in..."

"Wait, they saw it?!" Fiona demanded.

I sighed. "Yeah, and then Lip let go of me, thank god. Ian got in his face while Trevor made sure I was okay, and then Lip hit him in the face. That's why it was all purple—Ian didn't want to tell you because of...well, this," I said, running my hand over my stomach.

"Fuck," Fiona said quietly.

"Yeah, and then Trevor got Lip the fuck out of the house, while I went over to Ian, and that's when my water decided to break," I replied, feeling my face contorting then as another contraction broke through me.

"Breathe—it's okay," Fiona said soothingly.

I nodded. "I'm trying to make it be okay, Fiona," I said, hot tears escaping my eyes as I gripped onto her hand. "I'm just never going to get over the fact that I hurt Ian. He says he loves this baby already and wants it in our lives, but..."

"You're talking about Mickey being the father?"

I sighed. "Yes. I'm never going to get over how he reacted... He just walked away from me and screamed, Fiona. I've never seen a person react like that, to anything..."

"He was in love with Mickey," Fiona said simply, "and he might still be in love with Mickey, but we can't know for sure."

I sighed, lying back as the contraction ended again. "All I know is, Fi, I'd never make the same mistake twice..."

"What? By fucking Mickey again?" she asked.

I laughed aloud then. "Yeah—not touching that one. Or any exes of my siblings. That just has 'wrong' written all over it..."

Fiona smiled. "Well, I know one thing," she said. "Iana is going to be the luckiest baby in the world, because she's got you for a mom."

. . .

It was close to five in the morning when Dr. Laramie returned to my room, and checked me over, to let me know that Iana was finally about to make her big debut. I gripped tightly to Ian and Fiona's hands, not wanting them to leave for a moment, as I felt something attempting to pass its way through my birth canal and out into the world. I watched as Dr. Laramie snapped a pair of fresh gloves on, her face mask in place, and told the nurses to be prepared with the injections and the bath to make Iana presentable.

I'd already selected an outfit for Iana—a little pink, ruffley sundress, and of course she would be wrapped up in a pink, monogramed blanket and sporting a pink monogramed hat—and I thought of this as I screamed. I barely heard the words of encouragement coming from Ian and Fiona—all I cared about was getting Iana out of me and safely into the care of Dr. Laramie and her nurses across the room. The baby scale was positioned between the small bathing area set up for Iana, and I hoped that she would prove to be a good weight—

"And here we are, Murphy!" Dr. Laramie said then, and lifted Iana upwards, and I found myself gasping for air then as Ian and Fiona let out a collective gasp. "Let's get her bathed and weighed," she ordered then, bustling around the room with her. Once she was handed over to the nurses, Dr. Laramie turned to me and smiled. "She's absolutely beautiful, Murphy—well done! I want to congratulate you on a wonderful birth."

I smiled then, managing to sit up then to watch as the nurses carefully bathed Iana, who was screaming at the difference of temperature and fear of all these people around her. Once she was bathed, they brought her over to the scale, and I found my eyes filling with tears of relief when they told me she was a healthy seven pounds, four ounces. Next, they made sure she was dry enough before they wrapped her up into the blanket and hat—the dress would have to wait until Iana and I went home—before they brought her over to me.

"And here she is," the nurse said, putting her into my arms.

"Hi, Iana," I said, my voice trembling.

I stared down at her then, knowing that there was no mistaking it—she was definitely the daughter of me and Mickey Milkovich. A dusting of what I sensed would prove to be a crop of thick, raven hair was upon her head, but her eyes were dark, leading me to believe that she would have my eyes. Her nose was Mickey's as well, but she had my small chin and definitely was boasting my cheeks, although her forehead was her father's. I looked up at Ian then, who quickly noticed the differences from me in her face, but quickly put a smile on, so as I would sense that he was plenty pleased with how she looked.

"Do we have a name yet?" Dr. Laramie asked. "First? Middle? Last?"

I nodded. "Yeah, we do," I replied, leaning down and kissing Iana's forehead. "Iana—spelled like Ian's name, but with an 'A' at the end—is her first name."

"Very good," Dr. Laramie said. "And a middle name?"

"Yes. Phillipa—two L's, one P," I said patiently. "And then her surname is Gallagher, as her father won't be involved."

"Are you sure?" Ian asked me softly as Dr. Laramie began helping the nurses sterilize the room, to make sure that Iana's environment would be healthy.

"Yeah, I mean, after last night—" Fiona began.

I shook my head. "I'm sure," I replied, looking down at her. Quickly, I maneuvered my hospital gown so that she could have her first meal. "Lip'll come around," I replied, smiling as Iana latched on quickly, placing her small hand upon my chest. "I know he'll come around eventually and see reason. Besides, he's our brother, isn't he?"

. . .

Iana and I were able to return home the following day, and I was pleased not to be under scrutiny by other doctors and nurses in a constant manner. Josh had stopped by my room to see her, and said that Iana was as beautiful as me, although I hardly felt beautiful. It was such a relief to learn how much of a sleeper Iana was, and although such a thing shocked me, I really began to think that she'd inherited her intelligence gene from me.

"How is she?" Ian asked as I walked through the front door with her.

I smiled. "Perfect," I replied.

"And you?" Ian asked, taking my bag and placing it on the stairs. "You okay?"

"Never better," I replied, walking into the living room, spotting Debbie and Franny, as well as Fiona, Liam, and Trevor in the room. "Hey, guys," I said, stepping forward. "So, who wants to see Iana first?" I asked.

Debbie stepped forward as I placed Iana's car seat on the couch, and leaned down, gently unbuckling her as Franny watched eagerly. "Hi, Iana," Debbie whispered as Iana's eyes fluttered, opening completely to get a good look at her aunt. "It's Aunt Debbie. It's so nice to finally meet you."

Iana stared up at Debbie then, not crying, just staring, and I was pleased that she didn't seem like a typical baby, in that, she would automatically cry when encountering a stranger.

"My turn?" Fiona asked, stepping forward, gently taking Iana from Debbie. "Hey, Iana. I'm your Aunt Fiona. I'm so happy you're here," she said, kissing her forehead.

Ian stepped forward next, gently taking Iana into his arms. "And I'm your namesake, your Uncle Ian," he said, and Trevor automatically gravitated towards him, smiling down at her. "It's so good to have you home."

"Can I hold her?" Trevor asked.

I nodded. "Of course you can."

Trevor took Iana then, smiling down at her. "Hey," he said.

"It's okay," I said to him, touching his shoulder. "Talk to her."

"I'm Trevor," he said. "I'm Ian's boyfriend. I guess that's a lot for you to handle so early on, huh?" he asked, laughing. "Well, I think I speak for all of us when I say that it's so nice to have you here, Iana."

I smiled, taking Iana gently back from him and turning to look at Liam. "Do you want to say hi to your niece, Liam?" I asked him. At his nod, I crossed towards the couch and sat, Liam sitting beside me and watching. I made sure there were plenty of pillows around him and, once he was back against the cushions, I gently eased Iana into his arms.

"She's small," Liam said, as if he was shocked.

I smiled. "Well, all of us were that small at some point," I say to him, keeping a close eye on Iana, making sure that Liam didn't make any sudden movements to disturb her. "Are you okay with her, or do you want me to take her back?"

Liam looked up at me and smiled. "I'm okay, Murphy. I'm okay."

I leaned down and kissed his forehead. "I know you are," I said quietly.

. . .

"Are you on a different time zone or something?" Ian asked, coming into my room on the first day of June. "Wow. Even when you're looking for something, you tend to keep your room clean, I see..."

I sighed. "Well, Iana was asleep so I figured I'd take a shower..."

Ian nodded. "And judging by the wet hair, I'll go out on a limb and say, you did?"

I let out another sigh then, my shoulders deflating. "I think I left something at the firm," I say then, feeling ridiculous. "I thought I grabbed everything when my maternity leave started, but only I know where I put it, and I don't want to take out Iana yet..."

"Hey, hey," Ian said, stepping into my bedroom and pulling me into a hug. "That's okay. What do you need? Like, half an hour?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

"Okay," Ian said. "I know exactly where the diapers are, and how to change one. Plus, you've got all that milk in the fridge if Iana gets hungry. And if she spits up, I know where the clothes are, and where her bath is. I know I can take her outside for a few minutes, and I know where the baby suntan lotion is. You've been over this with me on countless occasions, Murphy—have some faith that I can handle it. Okay?"

I smiled, pulling back. "All right, all right," I said, getting my bag. I walked over to the crib, where Iana was taking a nap. Bending over, I kissed her forehead, and was relieved that she didn't wake up. "Well, okay. I'll keep my phone on my in case something happens while I'm gone," I said, walking towards the door.

"We're fine," Ian said. "Trevor's coming over in a bit, so I'll have back-up."

I laughed. "Okay, fair enough," I said, fishing my keys out of my pocket and making my way downstairs and to the front door. Letting myself out, I locked up behind me and went towards my car, feeling weird at being separated from Iana, but also knowing I'd have to prepare myself for it in September, when I started work again.

The drive to the firm was uneventful, but when I arrived, Rachel and Cindy were all a-flutter, so I handed over the baby pictures I'd meant to mail them. That appeased them, which made me laugh to myself as I walked over and into my office. Once there, I went through my desk and found the information I'd slowly been gathering, which had to do with some off-shore accounts that Paul Farris had, and the possibility that he had Jackie kill his father, because of his insider trading deals. So, it had had to do with money, just not in the way Nicholas and I had originally anticipated.

"Murphy?"

I looked up then, seeing Nicholas standing in my office doorway. "Hey," I said, in what I assumed was a noncommittal manner, as I lowered my eyes back to my documents. "What brings you here?"

"Well, I heard you were here," he said carefully. "Are you back?"

I shook my head. "Unofficially," I replied. "I was just picking something up I needed for working from home. My maternity leave stops in September."

Nicholas nodded. "Got it."

"Do you?" I asked him, slamming my desk drawer shut.

He blinked. "What's that supposed to mean?"

I sighed, bringing the documents close to my chest, which likely wasn't a good idea, but I was currently on the offensive and not really thinking straight. "I just want you to know that Josh told me what happened," I said quietly.

"He told you?"

I nodded. "Yeah. What happened to make you despise one another. He said he can forgive you, but he can't ever forget...what happened to Desmond."

He sighed. "He tell you I push him?"

I tilted my head to one side. "What do you think?"

"I think that son of a bitch is still spreading lies, and I can't stand it."

"A lie?" I demanded. "A lie?! He said that you shoved Desmond off a building after you beat him up—"

"And that now he's paralyzed from the fall?!"

I nodded. "Yes!" I hissed back. "That's what he said!"

"Goddammit," Nicholas whispered.

I lifted my head. "What?"

"That's not the full story, Murphy."

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah, really," Nicholas said angrily, coming into my office, the door shutting automatically behind him.

"Then tell me," I said, shocked at how close he was to me. "Tell me the full story, Nicholas, if it means that much to you..."

"It was a set up."

"A set up?"

"Yeah, between the two rival gangs."

"Desmond was in a gang?"

"Yes, Desmond was in a fucking gang," Nicholas said, growing impatient. "Anyhow, Desmond owned my top dog money, and since he refused to pay, it was my job to beat him up until he would pay up."

I shrugged. "So, you lost control, and he fell off the building."

"No," Nicholas replied. "I wanted out of the game..."

"Out of the game?"

"Yes. I wanted to be done with all of it. I knew my top dog's play, and I thought something was up, so I said I couldn't do it."

"So, what happened?"

"Josh's sister, Clarissa, who was only fourteen at the time, stepped in," Nicholas replied. "We told her the situation, and when Clarissa saw our side of it, she told Desmond to pay up, and when he refused, she began hitting him."

"And, of course, Desmond wouldn't hit Clarissa, because she was his little sister, and a woman on top of that," I said, putting two and two together.

"Exactly," Nicholas replied. "So, when I told Clarissa that Desmond had had enough, she refused to listen. I stepped in between them, telling her to stop, and when she refused, she ended up attacking me," he replied, moving his collar to the side, where scratch marks were on his neck. "I always said a dog attacked me, because I was embarrassed..."

"Clarissa do that?"

"Yeah," Nicholas said, pulling his collar back in place. "Anyhow, when Clarissa attacked me, I stumbled backwards, into Desmond, and that's how he fell off the roof," he said quietly. "So, did I throw him off the roof? No. Did I accidentally knock myself into him, which caused him to fall off the roof? Yes. Do I blame myself for all of this? Absolutely."

"Does Josh know?"

"I don't know, and I don't fucking care," Nicholas replied, staring down at me. "All I wanted was for you to know the truth."

I felt my breath hitch in my throat then, knowing that I shouldn't be feeling this way, but also wanting all the answers there were. "And is that... Is that all you want, Nicholas?"

"It's all I can want, Murphy."

"I don't believe that," I said, walking after him as he turned away from me. "I don't believe that for a minute, Nicholas. I don't."

Nicholas stared down at me. "You know my situation."

I nodded. "I know. And I'm saying I don't care," I whispered, slamming him up against the wall without hesitation, our lips meeting immediately, and the fire was ignited. I felt my hand dropping automatically to his belt—I needed this, needed him—but as I got his belt undone and stuck my hand inside his pants, Nicholas caught my wrist.

"Murphy..."

"What?" I whispered, staring up at him. "What's wrong?"

He shoved me away from him. "I'll forgive you, because your hormones are fucking off the charts right now, but...stop."

I blinked, surprised he was acting this way. "Why?"

"Because Jasmine is fucking pregnant! I told you!" Nicholas said, staring at me in a way where I physically felt the hate from his eyes and land into my chest. "Stop acting like a fucking..." He stopped himself then, shaking his head. "You're better than this, Murphy. I know you are. And we need to stop all of this. You're just my partner in the courtroom, Murphy. That's all," he said, spreading his hands as if to make a point, before he walked out.

I turned around then, walking towards my desk and gathering up my paperwork and putting it into my bag. I felt myself going numb, as I so often did when my mind knew that it wasn't fully prepared to keep the rest of my emotions in check. I slipped my bag on over my shoulder and opened the door to my office, making my way down the hallway and towards the elevators. I waved to Rachel and Cindy as I walked by, relieved that they didn't let on that they'd heard my conversation with Nicholas as I pressed the elevator button door.

I pulled out my phone then, texting Ian. _On my way home now. Need me to pick up anything on the way_?

When the elevator arrived, Ian texted me back. _All good here—thought we'd do takeout tonight since it's so hot out. Everything okay_?

 _Things are fine_ , I wrote back. _Unforeseen complications got in the way for a moment, but we're all good. Be home in fifteen_.

I looked up then, just as the elevator doors were about to close, and saw Nicholas running for the doors then. In that moment, I could've pressed the button to let him in, but I decided to make him wait. He was staring at me, though, so I didn't think it was the elevator he wanted after all as the doors slammed behind him.

 _Funny_ , I thought to myself, _that one massive building would only have one elevator working today, and the stairwells closed off for painting_ , I mused as the elevator took me downstairs and to my car, so I could get back home to my daughter, who should have been, and truly was, the most important thing in my life.

END OF SEASON TWO


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